


Hot American Summer, or The Hardest Thing to Swallow

by caimani



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, The Academy Is...
Genre: Bandom Big Bang 2016, Comedy, Drama, Multi, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:23:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 40,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8054386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caimani/pseuds/caimani
Summary: Between the pressures of the 2007 Honda Civic Tour and keeping track of the four werewolves that make up the rest of his band, Bill has his hands full. Now is not the time to be attempting a casual relationship with Gabe Saporta. But things happen (as they always do) and Bill finds himself swept back into Gabe's arms for a heated summer. Meanwhile, the wolves have their own conflicts. Bill's overbearing protective presence fades to neglect as the summer wears on, leaving them frustrated and quick to latch onto other distractions.





	1. Mike Carden

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fic for Bandom Big Bang, the first bang I've ever attempted to write. There is an [awesome complement fanmix created by general_jinjur here](https://general-jinjur.dreamwidth.org/676564.html). Thank you so much to them for taking my fic last minute and creating something really cool!

_It’s times like these that make Mike wonder why he doesn’t build a time machine powered by regret to return to the time that Fall Out Boy asked him to be their rhythm guitarist._

_Bill hasn’t written a single usable line since last week’s “run, run, why are you running from another conversation.” That pretty accurately describes his recent actions. He spends half the day ignoring his phone and the other half delivering excuses to Adam, Butcher, Tom… anyone who isn’t Mike, really._

_Sisky’s still permanently wrapped around Bill’s little finger. Same as the day Mike first met him. If Bill tells Sisky that he wants to disappear completely or take a year-long trip around the world for inspiration, Mike’s sure that Sisky will just smile and nod and eagerly ask if Bill needs him to do anything for him in that time. Too bad Bill can’t tell Sisky to write songs for him._

_Butcher’s been quiet. Mike knows that he’s eager to write and record and get back to playing music. New music. The waiting and fighting is taking its toll on him. He’s not fed up with Bill’s excuses yet—not like Mike is—but he’s getting tired of it all. Mike considers Butcher his ally in this turmoil._

_And Tom…_

_Tom is really starting to piss everyone off with his refusal to contribute. All he does is whine about how much the band is fighting, which is the last thing that Mike (and the rest of the band) needs to hear._

_One of these days, Mike’s not going to be able to resist the wolf that keeps telling him to tear into Tom’s golden fur until it’s soaked with blood._

_‘Can you guys stop arguing?’_

_Fucking._

_‘Don’t make me pick a side.’_

_Tom._

_‘We’re friends. We shouldn’t have to bully each other like this.’_

_Conrad._

……

The first day of tour is always a hectic fucking mess of crews trying to make sure the gear is in the right place, managers trying to keep their bands in check at all times, and bands just trying to get used to the routine again. And there’s five bands this time. Gotta hit the ground running.

Mike’s been touring long enough to know that he just has to wait out the first-day mayhem. At least everyone here is used to it. Fall Out Boy and their crew are chaotic most of the time and Mike’s heard that +44 can be just as wild. Mike doesn’t know what to expect from Cobra Starship and Paul. But he knows Fall Out Boy’s guys, and he doubts Gabe has changed much since they last toured together. They’ll fall into some kind of routine soon. 

Mike can already taste the vodka and weed and pizza. Although… That might just be because he could smell two out of the three when he passed Fall Out Boy’s bus earlier. And he stole a bottle of the third when he swung by Cobra’s, which is now stashed in his bunk.

And that brief contact with Cobra’s guys (and girl) gave him a good first impression. Seems like Cobra knows how to have a good time. Fucking nice.

Having a good time… partying… even just playing shows and drowning his mind in the music… it all helps to distract from the wolf that fills Mike with the need to shift, run, fight. The wolf that needs to be around other wolves but also needs to wrestle those other wolves to the ground with force that can snap human bones. 

Sisky and Butcher understand that. Tom… didn’t understand. 

Thank god they’ve got Chislett now.

This is the first actual tour with Chislett. As funny as it was experiencing Bill’s reaction to having another werewolf in the band, Mike’s still apprehensive about how the chemistry of the band will change as the moon waxes and wanes when there’s no escape from one another.

Whatever. The last quarter was a couple days ago and the upcoming new moon means a bit of peace and quiet from the wolf that’s recently been telling him to snap his jaws around Chislett’s neck. Or fuck him. 

God, he really doesn’t need to start that shit with another member of the band.

Mike stops just outside the dressing room. He’s about fifteen minutes early and he can hear Bill warming up down the hall by singing the same line from Big Mess over and over. More importantly, Mike can smell Butcher and Sisky in the dressing room. He hovers outside the door, breathing soft and silent. The light isn’t on yet, which may deter humans from entering but doesn’t mean much to a werewolf.

Butcher and Sisky aren’t being too subtle. By the smell, they’re probably about two minutes away from getting each other off.

Mike opens the door and flips the light switch without another moment’s thought.

Sisky and Butcher are tangled together on the couch. Butcher’s frowning and Sisky looks tense.

“Oh, sorry, were you busy?” Mike asks with a smile, shutting the door behind him. 

“Yes,” Sisky says, although he’s already starting to pull away from Butcher. He smells so— “You could have waited, like, another minute.”

Yeah. He could have. “Would you rather Bill walk in on you?” Mike walks over to the table piled with snacks and throws a bag of Doritos at Sisky. Sisky blanches, takes the hint, and holds the bag in his lap while he tears it open and starts scarfing down the chips. The scent of nacho cheese powder starts to fill the room.

Butcher’s still frowning at Mike. He finally detaches himself from Sisky and leaves the room without saying anything.

Ungrateful fucker. Mike just did them a favor. See if he does it again.

Besides, there’s no reason to get all upset about this on day one. Butcher can finish sucking Sisky’s face and get around to his cock after they play their show. If he can catch Sisky after the show, of course. Mike knows how excited and energetic and fucking horny Sisky can get after a show. It’s better with more of the wolf dictating Sisky’s thoughts, but still. Those are the times that Sisky’s not picky about who’s with him so long as he gets off. Multiple times. The memories have Mike smiling.

“Wait,” Sisky says in a very loud and completely indiscreet whisper. He drops the Doritos on the couch and races out the dressing room to follow Butcher.

Mike takes the abandoned Doritos and sinks onto the couch. There’s also a box of powdered donuts on the table that look amazing. Technically, the band ate about two hours ago, but Mike was partly occupied arguing with Bill and anyone foolish enough to take his side about the setlist. Just something to take up time.

He digs a handful of chips out of the bag and realizes, as soon as they’re in his mouth, that he left his drink on the bus. He glances around and sees a stack of water bottles beside the powdered donuts. No alcohol. Fuck… is he going to have to go all the way back to the bus to get something?

Bill walks into the dressing room and looks around. “Where’s Butcher and Sisky?”

Probably blowing each other in a closet. Mike snickers around the mouthful of Doritos and Bill narrows his eyes in confusion.

“What?”

Mike shakes his head and covers his mouth to try and contain his mirth. And also to keep from spraying Dorito crumbs all over his clean jeans. They’re not going to be clean for long, but he can try. 

“I thought they were here since they aren’t... what’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” He should stop laughing. They’ve got a show to play with some awesome new music that Mike loves. Yeah, think about the music. The music is what’s most important. The Academy Is… is here to do a job, and they’ll have time for screwing around once they’re done.

And he’ll have time to screw around with Sisky after the show. That’ll do good to keep his mind off Chislett.


	2. Bill Beckett

_“Just for practice,” Jack Edinger promises. His voice is almost shaking with excitement. “Lighting and stuff. I don’t usually photograph animals, but this is, this is such a great chance. Back in high school, I had no idea Mike was—wow.”_

_Bill had no idea either, but like hell he’s gonna let Jack know that. Mike and Adam were both so good at keeping their secret. Fuck, it’s so annoying that he went so many years without noticing it. They’re his friends goddamnit._

_“But, if they’re cool with it and everything,” Jack continues, “This would be such a great chance to expand my film and photography—”_

_“Portfolio?” Tony says, harsh enough to make Bill flinch._

_Jack recoils and stumbles to recover himself. “No! No, I love these guys I— I wouldn’t… I mean, not unless you and they both say it’s okay.”_

_“It’s not,” Bill says._

_“Okay.” Jack swallows and glances at the cameras on the table between them. Tony and Bill are sitting on one side, Jack on the other. The four wolves are lying on the floor beside the table, watching. They’re remarkably calm for once. Maybe they’ve just been as tense as Bill’s felt during the long months of writing and recording Santi. Maybe Michael’s presence is balancing them out._

_Bill can’t remember the last time they were like this._

_Tony sighs and Bill returns his attention to the staredown with their videographer/photographer. “Bill and Mike have both vouched for you, so I trust you. And our last guy, Jon, he did a couple shoots with them as wolves but we agreed: limit the physical copies. And make sure the digital copies stay in a safe place.”_

_Jack takes a long breath and his face brightens. He looks like he’s just been given an early birthday present._

_Bill quickly adds, “Also, nothing in TAI TV that even so much as **hints** at wolves or supernatural creatures.”_

_“No, yeah, of course not. I get that.”_

_Bill leans closer over the table. “I mean it. No references, no wolf or dog jokes.”_

_Jack nods. “Yeah, I understand completely.”_

_“Everyone in the crew knows that they don’t breathe a word about this to anyone. **Anyone.** Family, friends, girlfriends.”_

_“I know.”_

_Bill feels oddly protective over the wolves as he tries to stand back and allow Jack to get up and ask them to separate, move in or out of the light. He doesn’t know why, really. Jack’s a good guy. He and Mike both agree on that. And Tony’s watching, Bill’s watching, Chris V is hovering at the edges of the room. They’re all watching out for the wolves. And it’s not like anyone wants to hurt them._

_But Bill still has to wait here, watch for himself. Adam and Mike are two of his closest friends in the world. He’s known Butcher for a long time. And Michael trusts Bill. He trusts the crew. Bill will be damned if he doesn’t return that trust with security._

_“Hey, um, which one are you…?” Jack says, reaching hesitantly towards Mike._

_“That’s Mike.” Bill says. He pushes past Jack and drags Mike away from where he’s about to squash Adam on the floor. Mike slides across the tile floor, stubbornly not moving his legs or sitting up. “Mike has the darkest fur. Adam’s the lightest one. Butcher is light brown with gray down his back. Michael’s more gray with light brown on his ears and legs.” Bill points to each wolf as he describes them._

_“Whoa,” Jack looks from one wolf to another. He takes the lens cap off the camera and crouches down in front of Mike. “Uh, make a face if you want to, Mike.”_

_Mike bares his teeth and snarls loudly, sending Bill’s heart pounding. Jack flinches, but snaps a few shots._

_Off to the side, Michael has sat down on the floor again. Butcher lies down on his left, sitting close enough that they’re neck and neck. Adam bounds over and sits down on Michael’s right. He leans as close as Butcher, and Jack scrambles over._

_“Wow, that looks amazing,” Jack murmurs, raising his camera up again. As soon as Jack starts pressing the shutter, Adam leans closer to Michael, effectively crowding the guitarist’s face between his and Butcher’s. Michael squeezes his face out from between Adam and Butcher._

_Bill forces himself to walk away from the wolves so that Jack can get his pictures. Butcher and Adam pose together, then Michael and Mike, then all four of them. Jack’s actually being respectful and talking to them like he would a normal subject. A human subject, that is. Even when Mike starts acting up and walking away, Jack just rolls with it. That’s nice. Okay, Bill likes this guy a bit more if he’s going to keep treating them like this._

_Although, sooner or later, Jack’s going to have to understand that he also has to treat them like they have occasional violent tendencies. Because they do. Frequent violent tendencies from all of them, even Adam._

_He doesn’t need another..._

_“Hey, Bill?” Jack says, bringing Bill out of his musing._

_“Huh?”_

_“Do you think you could, um, sit next to them for a couple… if you want?”_

_Bill glances at his band, who are all sprawled on the ground a few feet away from where Jack’s crouching. Butcher’s trying to bite Adam’s tail, but they’re otherwise still. Bill shrugs._

_“Sure…”_

_He kneels down next to Mike. Mike looks away from the camera lens and tilts his head up to stare at Bill. He bumps his head into Bill’s chest. Bill blinks at him. Mike blinks his golden yellow eyes right back._

_“Wow, that’s great!” Bill jumps and looks at Jack, who’s focusing his camera on him and Mike. In that moment of distraction, however, Mike takes advantage and rolls his heavy furry body onto Bill, pinning him to the floor. Adam, Butcher, and Michael all make their loud almost-barking noise and rush over to the two of them. Adam licks Bill’s face, Butcher puts his paws against Mike’s back and pushes, and Michael doesn’t seem to be doing anything besides making noises at them._

_“Get off!” Bill shoves at Mike, although he might as well be pushing a rock for all the good it’s doing. Tony’s come over and he’s also trying to push Mike off, while Jack sounds like he’s torn between taking more pictures and helping Tony._

……

Bill has no problem with tour flings with friends. The people he meets on tour can be some of the best people in the world. They’re fun, available, and they have no expectations for continuing the fling after the tour ends. Pete and Mikey don’t count.

The problem comes when someone he fucked during one tour hopes to rekindle things later. Like, oh, say someone he had a lot of fun with almost two years ago shows up with a new band and asks him if he can collab for a new song. And, despite the time that’s passed, that person is still extremely attractive and makes Bill remember _why_ they fucked two years ago. And mistakes are made, in the heat of the moment. Then they go on tour together and it’s harder to avoid said person. Shit.

This situation is so fucked. But it’s nothing Bill can’t handle.

The point is, Bill isn’t avoiding Gabe and he certainly isn’t avoiding him because Gabe said on the first day of tour, “Hey, um, you know how, while we were recording, and filming, you said we should wait until we weren’t so busy—” before Bill could escape with the excuse of looking for the rest of his band. That’s not avoidance, though, because Bill actually did have to look for his band.

He just has a lot of things to do. And he can do those things better without the distraction of Gabe trying to talk to him. In private. God, he’s so glad that tour can be so busy.

See. He doesn’t dislike Gabe. He likes him a lot. He’s just not _gay_ for Gabe. It’s been two years since that tour and they’ve changed a lot. Things are different now. He’s not about to start coming up with special things to describe them, like “gay above the waist,” or some other bullshit. 

He’s.

He’s busy.

Bill glances up from the notebook that’s still frustratingly blank. Butcher’s sitting on the other side of the bus lounge, pretending to not pay attention while he’s drawing something. Seeing the pair of completed drawings beside Butcher somehow frustrates Bill even more. The drummer can be productive, but he, the lead singer who should be coming up with lyrics, isn’t.

Butcher looks up and Bill quickly digs his phone out of his pocket. Something to do, someone to text…

Except he’s recently received a message from Gabe. Bill panics for a second and decides on impulse to pretend he’s lost his phone. Adam’s bunk is the perfect place to stash it until later in the day. Once it’s safely hidden, he returns to the lounge and picks up the notebook.

_Don’t call_  
_Don’t write_  
_Don’t say my name_  
_We’ve tried this once before_

God damn it.

It’s not like Bill leads Gabe on. Much. During that video’s recording… He kissed back when Gabe kissed him because he remembered that Gabe is a good kisser and kissing usually leads to a good time. And when they were standing together and someone’s hand dropped lower than the belt… or when they were sitting together and someone’s hand moved up the thigh… well, things happened. But wasn’t leading on because Bill was just going along.

It doesn’t seem like most of his friends share that opinion. Mike, Butcher, Tony, half of the guys in Cobra—

Fucking.

Yesterday, Michael of all people walked up to Bill and asked him if he was angry with Gabe. What gives him the right!? He knows nothing about what it was like during the Fueled by Ramen and Friends Tour. Or the recording and filming of Snakes on a Plane. Or the last... 

No matter what everyone’s been saying behind Bill’s back… 

There’s a knock on the bus door and Bill jumps, causing his pen to drag across the page. Good. He doesn’t need to write a song about Gabe Saporta. He should rip the page out and burn it, but it’s still something he’s written that Mike’s going to inevitably demand to see. Or he’ll just steal it when Bill’s not protecting it. 

Tony sticks his head inside. “Bill?”

“What?”

Tony sighs. “Good, you’re here. Couldn’t get a hold of you. Where’s your phone?”

Of course that plan backfires. Across the lounge, Butcher’s watching Bill and it’s a bit unnerving. He really needs to find someone to hang out with who won’t judge him for wanting a comfortable place without connections to ex-flings. “It’s, uh, I’ll get it. Sorry.”

He needs to get his shit together. He can’t let this tour get the best of him.


	3. Alex Suarez

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for discussion of vampirey stuff, animal blood, food... Also, I took a lot of artistic liberty with the vampire thing. It's fun.

_“What’s that red stuff in the middle?” Gabe asks._

_“Juice,” Alex says, fighting to keep the smirk off his face when someone announces it’s blood from the tenderloin. Gabe doesn’t look amused. After Ryland’s finished his video and everyone’s crowded around the table filling their plates, Alex steps aside with Gabe._

_“Sorry about the blood thing.” Maybe his apology would be more sincere if he didn’t have a large piece of the meat sitting on top of his serving of lasagna, dripping its juices into the meaty tomato sauce. But if he didn’t grab that perfect medium-rare piece, someone else would have._

_Gabe grimaces and looks down at the pile of salad on his own plate. “There’s a difference between eating animals and drinking human blood.”_

_Alex nods. Gabe’s said it before, it’s an ethical thing. He can respect that. Just like vegetarianism for religious reasons. He gets why people do it and he can work with it. Food is meant to make people happy, and if one person isn’t happy, the meal isn’t as good. Still, he’s curious… “Does the vampire thing make it strange? For you?”_

_Gabe shakes his head. “The vampire thing is just... sometimes drinking human blood. There's never any killing. S'long as I’m careful, it’s not hurting anyone either.”_

_“Okay...” Isn’t biting someone’s flesh so they bleed and sucking out the blood still a form of harm? Alex hopes that Gabe’s never going to ask him for his blood, so he never has to find out if a vampire bite hurts or not._

……

About ninety-nine percent of the time, Alex Suarez completely forgets that Gabe is a vampire. Gabe probably forgets he’s a vampire at least ninety-eight percent of the time. He doesn’t fit the stereotype of vampires in the movies or stuff. He’s a devout vegetarian, he thrives in the sun enough to be a plant, and he rivals Vicky for time spent staring at his reflection. Also, Gabe says he doesn’t actually need blood to survive.

So he says.

He may not need it to survive, but he’s definitely claimed that he needs it to party. Alex still doesn’t quite understand how that works, despite watching it happen several times now.

It goes like this: Party starts. Gabe manages to convince someone to donate blood. He bites them with weird snake teeth that never seem to show up except on those nights. Then he stays up all night partying on his vampire high and refuses to come out of his bunk or even tolerate artificial light until about noon the next day.

Like today.

Now, Alex knows that Cobra Starship’s set on this tour is not very long. They’re not the main show but they still perform with as much energy as they can pack into their allotted time. They’ve been gaining more and more fans with each show. But to keep those fans, they need to put on a consistently good performance.

It’s hard to prepare for that performance when the lead singer is hiding until his vampire hangover goes away. 

This morning, Alex, like everyone else, assumed that Gabe was doing his usual thing of hiding in his bunk until Dan would haul him out with promises of hummus and baby carrots. But Gabe turned out to not be in his bunk, hence the search that’s going on now.

Lipski’s on the phone with the last venue’s owner to make sure Gabe didn’t stay behind. Alex is pretty sure that Gabe’s responsible enough to make sure he gets on a bus, even if he’s charged on blood. But, hey, they’ve got to cover all the possibilities. 

While Lipski’s busy, the band and crew are wandering around the venue in pairs, looking for Gabe. Alex teamed up with Ryland. Neither Alex nor Ryland really has any direction or leads to follow, so together, they’re just walking around, asking each bus to check its bunks, and checking improbable locations like refrigerators just for the hell of it. They’ve found two bottles of ice cold lemonade so far. 

They’re rounding the corner towards The Academy Is…’s bus when Alex overhears Bill Beckett shouting.

“No! Have you seen me hanging out with Gabe? Ask Mike! I don’t know!” 

Alex and Ryland stop as Bill storms around the corner, angry and glaring at them as if they’ll challenge him. They step out of his way and let him by. 

“He makes a good point.” Ryland says once Bill’s out of earshot.

“What?” Alex doesn’t follow Ryland’s comment at all.

“Mike Carden. Wasn’t he clinging onto Gabe last night?”

Right. Alex vaguely remembers Carden asking Gabe if he could join Cobra Starship and Gabe telling him yes. “I forgot about that.” Alex says. 

“Where would he be? Mike, I mean.”

“Uh…” It would have been a great idea to ask Bill where Carden is, but judging by his outburst, he doesn’t seem interested in helping them track down Gabe. Kinda weird considering how the two of them used to be together. Like, two years ago or something. Carden didn’t really share many of the details about that when they talked after the first show a couple days ago.

Ryland turns around. “Start at their bus?”

That seems like a good place to start. They’re almost there anyway. Alex follows after Ryland and they knock on the door of the bus. 

Butcher opens the door a few moments later. He smiles at them. “Hey. You looking for Gabe?”

Ryland steps forward. “Yeah, we think Mike might know where he is. Have you seen him?”

“Uh, I don’t know where Mike is,” Butcher says. “But I can find him and Gabe for you. Pretty sure they’re still together.” 

“You think so?” Alex asks. He hasn’t had much time to spend with Butcher yet. He seems like a cool talented guy, but finding Gabe probably isn’t the same as trying to find a normal passed out drunk guy. Gabe is a pro at finding the darkest, most secluded places to hide during these vampire hangovers.

Butcher nods brightly. He pushes past them and sets off in a very direct path, pausing only a few times to gaze at nothing in particular. 

In what feels like no time at all, Butcher stops at a merch trailer. “In here. It sm—I think they’re in here. Uh, probably. It’s… a place Mike’s gone before. Yeah. Since, uh, they’re definitely together. Cause they left the party together, right? I… Maybe.” Butcher flashes them a brilliant smile and takes off back in the direction they came.

“Thanks?” Ryland says curiously.

Alex looks from Butcher’s retreating back to the piles of boxes that can be seen through the partly opened trailer door. He opens the door the rest of the way and steps into the trailer. 

“Gabe?” Alex calls. “You in here?” From the back of the trailer, he hears something move.

Alex has to push aside some of the boxes to make a narrow aisle to the back of the trailer. When he manages to force his way back, sure enough, he finds Gabe and Mike Carden tangled together on a makeshift bed of boxes and Fall Out Boy T-shirts. And thankfully, they’re both fully clothed. Carden blinks sleepily at them from where he’s sprawled on the T-shirts. Next to him, Gabe curls into a ball and groans.

“Who is it?” he whines.

Ryland pushes Gabe’s shoulder with his foot. “It’s us, buddy. Time to go.”

Gabe shakes his head and buries it in Carden’s chest. “Five more minutes.”

Carden gives him a disgusted grimace and pushes him away. “Gross,” he says. “You drooled on my shirt.”

“You said I could.”

Okay. Well. Maybe they should step out of here soon. At least Gabe and Carden aren’t naked. And at least they’ve found him, in one piece, and not all the way back in Iowa. 

Gabe could have maybe given them all some warning that he was off to make out with Carden, but at least they went someplace where fewer people would be bothered. Not that Alex has anything against gay or bisexual or bicurious people. If it’s the right person, then go for it.

Alex decides to stop that train of thought. “Hey, Gabe, you need help getting to the dressing room?”

“Mm, what time is it?” Gabe says, covering his eyes with his arm. “I need food…”

“You’ve got time,” Ryland says. “Just making sure you know we’re still doing a show today.”

“Yeah, I got it.” Nobody says anything for almost a full minute. Alex and Ryland have probably overstayed their welcome, if they ever had a welcome walking into two grown men cuddling in a merch trailer.

“Okay…” Alex says awkwardly. “We’ll just. Go. See you later, Gabe. And, uh, you too Mike.”

“Bye,” Mike grumbles and crawls on top of Gabe again.

Alex trails after Ryland, who leads the way… away. Away from the trailer. Ryland says he’ll call Dan to let him know where Gabe has been all morning (and night, probably). They’re mostly just wandering now, since they technically don’t have to be anywhere for another hour. Alex half-listens to Ryland warn Dan in very vague terms of what he will find in the trailer. 

“No, no,” Ryland laughs. “He’s safe. Him and Carden. Yeah.”

Carden. He was really fun last night. He and the rest of The Academy Is… seem like really fun people. They’ve been acting a bit… is tense the word? Strained? Alex isn’t sure whether he’s known them for a long enough period of time to make that judgment. They _have_ just finished their album after months of hard work, so maybe they’re coming down from that. 

Maybe they need time away from each other? Would that explain why Carden and Gabe… Probably not. Alex has no desire to get involved in complicated fuckbuddy relationships on this tour. It’s better to keep things light, play the music, meet fans, and build friendships between the bands. It’s already pretty easy talking to Butcher and—

“Hey Ryland,” Alex says. Ryland’s done with the call. He looks over at Alex.

“Hm?”

“Was Butcher at the thing last night?”

Ryland hums. “I don’t think so. Why?”

Alex shrugs. “Just wondering how he knew where to find Mike.”

“Didn’t he say Mike’s done that before? Gone in a merch trailer overnight?”

He did, but Alex got the impression that Butcher only said that because he didn’t know what else to say. 

“You think he’s like… he can see things?” Alex regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. See things? Who is he kidding?

Ryland gives Alex an incredulous look that matches up with how Alex is feeling. He still makes an attempt to explain where that idea came from. “Oh come on! Gabe’s a vampire! There might be other weird things out there.”

“So… what? Butcher can find people? Like a psychic?”

Yeah, okay, maybe Alex is thinking too far into this. He’s not interested in embarrassing himself anymore today. “Forget it. Let’s get something to eat.”


	4. Bill Beckett

_“So I’ve been wondering… What’s it like, being the only human in a band full of werewolves?” Travie asks._

_Bill drops his drink in shock. That was not what he was expecting when Travie asked to hang out before bus call. He stops walking and gapes at Travie. “Wh—”_

_Travie also stops walking and looks around backstage. “We’re good, man, I already checked. No one’s listening.” He stoops down to pick up Bill’s now-empty can, which has spilled all over the wooden floor._

_“No, I…” Bill also whirls around. They are, in fact, mostly alone. Most of the people backstage are watching Fall Out Boy perform, getting trashed on cheap alcohol, or fussing over gear. They’re as alone as they can get at a venue like this. But people listening isn’t what Bill’s worried about. How the fuck does Travie…_

_“If you don’t feel like talking about it, I get it.” Travie says quickly._

_“No, no.” Bill says. “Who— who told you?” Mike? Adam? One of the newer members, Tom and Butcher, who also happen to be goddamned wolves?_

_Travie chuckles. “Nah, me and Matt went to school with a pack of wolves. We could tell that you boys aren’t all human. Didn’t really expect to come across so many on tour, but they do kinda gather. You know how it is.”_

_Actually, Bill really doesn’t. He still knows next to nothing, despite it being months since he found out. He is still not okay with this. Two days from now is the first night of the full moon, and Adam’s still trying to get Bill to watch him turn into a wolf. Bill’s not sure if he can do that… see the kid he’s known for years turn into an animal. It’s fucking unnatural. This whole werewolf thing is not what he wanted when he wanted to be in a band._

_Bill just forces out a laugh and says, “Yeah, it’s… unexpected.”_

_Travie’s smile drops. “Hey… you okay?”_

_Bill shakes his head. “Still getting used to it.” He really wants to get fucking wasted now, steal the six-pack that Mike’s hidden under his mound of laundry; although, once he’s drunk, he’ll probably spill everything to Travie. But. Travie says he’s known wolves before..._

_He might know how to deal with them._

_Travie looks concerned now. “What’s—”_

_Suddenly Travie’s voice is drowned out by the screaming applause of the crowd. Feeling a bit self-conscious, Bill takes a step backwards, away from Travie. God, what is he thinking? He can deal with his own band. The last thing he needs is for everyone on tour to hear that he’s being weirded out by his own bandmates. And he loves his band… this werewolf thing is just something he needs to get used to._

_Somehow._

_“Bill!”_

_Bill and Travie both turn to see Mike walking towards them from the green room. He’s staring suspiciously at the pair of them, and Bill takes another step away from Travie._

_“Come on,” Mike says once he’s close enough to be heard over the fading applause. “Need you back at the bus.”_

_That’s probably a lie, but Bill follows after Mike anyway. Mike leads him outside before he turns around with a dark look on his face. Bill makes the mistake of looking at his eyes for a second, which are a lot more yellow than they should be. How the hell did ever he miss that before? Normal people’s eyes don’t change color._

_“Gym Class Heroes knows?” Mike demands._

_“I didn’t tell them,” Bill says defensively._

_Mike scowls. “This is a serious thing. You can’t go around telling every—”_

_“I didn’t tell anyone! Travie asked me about it!”_

_Mike doesn’t look convinced. Bill wants to punch that look off his face, but that would lead to a fistfight and Mike would definitely win in a fistfight. Damn cheating werewolf._

_Before Mike can inevitably say that he doesn’t believe him, Bill says, “Look, he already knows. He knows others like you!”_

_“Not everyone who knows about us **should** know about us.”_

……

Although Bill hopes he can avoid being alone with Gabe all summer, he knows the chance of that plan working out perfectly is unlikely. Especially with the members of his and Gabe’s bands’ habits of meddling in people’s lives.

So when Mike, Vicky, and Ryland don’t show up to their promised hangout at a Starbucks in Missouri, leaving him alone with Gabe Saporta and far away from the buses, Bill isn’t very surprised. Betrayed maybe, but not surprised.

Gabe stirs agave sugar into his drink, not looking at Bill. “Are we pretending that we don’t know each other as well as we do? Just like after the shoot was over?”

Bill flinches. Way to get straight to the point. Gabe might as well ask ‘Why don’t you want to fuck? We had so much fun last time.’ 

Fuck. Tour sex should not be this complicated. 

The truth is, Bill _does_ want to fuck. It’s been long enough that they shouldn’t have any residual feelings for each other, although Gabe was oddly touchy during and after the video shoot. The problem is, when casual sex starts to be a regular thing, when it extends past a few months, people start developing feelings. It’s inevitable. Bill can’t let things get to that point. It ruined things with Tom, even before they started struggling through Santi. He ruined a great friendship then and he doesn’t want that to happen again. He has no desire to push any messy feelings onto Gabe. 

“No. I’m, uh, just not... ready, y’know?”

“What?”

“I mean…” Fuck, Bill’s fucking it all up already. He can’t remember how to start all the explanations he’s rehearsed in his head for the past week. How did those go again? “It’s. I mean. Um. People think…”

“Everyone thinks we’ve been together more than once,” Gabe says, gently. His eyes are fixed on watching his spoon turn in circles. “Well, besides the guys who know.”

“Yeah…” Bill’s sure that’s all Pete’s fault. And Mike’s fault. And all of Cobra Starship. He would blame Travie too, but Travie’s too goddamn considerate to gossip about something like that. He needs more friends who know how to keep their mouths shut.

Gabe finally looks up. “So… not ready? What’s that mean? You trying to prove someone wrong? Bet with Card—”

“I _want_ to fuck,” Bill blurts out, stopping Gabe before he can suggest Mike has anything to do with this. Besides meddling where he isn’t wanted. “But… what we’ve been doing. What we did. Is it still, like, um, just a thing? Or a _thing_?” He sounds like a fucking teenager, god. He’s stuttering and his cheeks feel hot and it’s hard to look Gabe in the eyes and, damn it, he’s supposed to be over shit like this. He’s a grown fucking man, talking to another grown man. That he’s fucked in the past. Multiple times.

Why is talking so hard? 

“I—I don’t want to, like, make you think—”

Gabe cuts him off with a flood of giggles. Giggles. Perfect Gabe Saporta giggles. He likes hearing those more than he should. Not a good sign.

“That’s what you’ve been thinking about? Dude, we’re bros. We can talk things out. Or we don’t have to talk about stuff like…” Gabe shrugs. “Like, I don’t know, it’s 2007. Nobody in a band like yours or mine is all straight. You can like both dudes and girls—”

“No, that’s not it.”

That isn’t what Bill is talking about. First of all, he’s not gay and he’s already had his gay crisis to come to that conclusion. That was years ago. He’s just a normal straight guy who sleeps with his non-female friends sometimes. No big deal, except for when it is a big fucking deal. Like now.

“Just forget about it,” Bill says with a groan. “It’s not important.”

Gabe frowns but shrugs and returns his attention to his drink. “So… you wanna make out later? Pretend we haven’t done anything before? Start all over?”

Bill doubts it will be that simple. “Sure. Yeah. Um. That’d be, uh, great, I guess. Tonight, or?”

Gabe smirks. “How about ten minutes from now?”

Bill downs his tea. 

It doesn’t take ten minutes.

It’s eleven before they start touching.

Bill can’t help it. Gabe Saporta is an extremely attractive man and he has years of experience (off and on) in seducing Bill. Gabe is charming and funny and amazing boyfriend material that Bill can appreciate despite being totally straight. He’s touchy and loves to whisper compliments about Bill’s physical features with his lips way too close to Bill’s skin.

That being said, Bill makes the first move past ‘just bros kissing each other breathless’ when he grabs a handful of Gabe’s ass as they’re waiting for the light to change.


	5. Gabe Saporta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this here chapter thing has some discussion about blood drinking. And there's sex.

_Mike is dragging Gabe away from the party, which is fine. No it’s great. Mike is a cool guy. He’s funny and he’s got a really cute laugh and he’s not Bill but Gabe likes him. Bill seems to be happy pretending he doesn’t know Gabe anyway._

_He’d love to fuck Mike Carden. What a great idea. The admittedly small amount of blood that Vicky let him have is still enough to keep him charged all night. Too bad Carden is drunk as hell. But that just means, if Mike’s sober enough to consent, Gabe can fuck Mike and then get back to the party and find someone else. Or just dance, because dancing is awesome too._

_Mike snickers at something that Gabe must have missed. He doesn’t think he’s said anything since he said “Yeah” in response to Mike asking “Hey, hey, come with me.”_

_Gabe runs into Mike’s back when he suddenly stops. They’re in the middle of the parking lot, near the Fall Out Boy bus, Gabe thinks. Mike turns around and pulls Gabe close, until Gabe’s almost pressed against Mike’s chest. Nice. “I meant it. I’m in Cobra Starship now.”_

_Oh, he’s thinking about what Gabe jokingly offered while they were taking shots. Gabe shrugs and reaches past Mike’s dark hair to stroke the soft skin of his neck. There’s Mike’s pulse. “Sure.”_

_“Your band is great.” Mike leans his head against Gabe’s chest and blows softly on Gabe’s skin._

_Vicky’s blood wasn’t enough. Mike’s… Gabe struggles to focus on the conversation, although he’s sure that Mike is far drunker than he is. Band. Great. “So’s yours. You’re great, Mike.”_

_“Mm-hm.” Mike looks up, his chin still resting on Gabe’s chest. “And you’re a vampire.”_

_Gabe freezes. He’s not so drunk that he doesn’t realize what Mike’s just said. He tries to pull back, but he is abruptly aware of Mike’s arms tight around his waist. He hadn’t noticed those before._

_Gabe laughs, shakily. “What?”_

_“I can smell the blood you drank.” Mike leans closer, tilts his head up, buries his face against Gabe’s neck. “Blood on your…” Gabe twitches when he feels Mike’s tongue swipe against his jaw. Right where Vicky’s blood dripped a couple hours ago. Even though he wiped it off._

_Gabe maneuvers his hands to press against Mike’s chest. He tries to shove Mike away from him, or at least from his face, but Mike is a lot stronger than he looks. He tightens his grip around Gabe’s middle. “Mm. Don’t escape. I want…”_

_“What’s going on?” Gabe says. The alcohol and blood are secondary to the adrenaline rushing through him now._

_Mike opens his eyes and stares at Gabe, more intensely than Gabe would think possible for someone who had as much as Mike has. “Wolf wants t’fight you. Or fuck.”_

_“Wolf?” Gabe swallows. Ha. Yeah. No, this isn’t happening. This can’t be real. “What are you?”_

_“Shh.” Mike smiles, closes his eyes again. “Not supposed to know.”_

_“Are you… are werewolves real?”_

_Mike nods. “Don’t tell Bill I told you.”_

_“Okay.”_

_“Shh,” Mike looks away from Gabe. “It’s quieter.” He lets go of Gabe’s waist, only to clench his fists in Gabe’s shirt. With that same inhuman—werewolf, Gabe tells himself—force, he hauls Gabe towards the nearest flat surface, which happens to be the side of a merch trailer._

……

Thanks to some miracle or manipulation on someone’s part, the TAI… bus is empty when they get back, barely able to pry their hands and lips off each other.

Bill’s hands are fisted in Gabe’s shirt and his eyes are shut as he pushes Gabe through the door, kissing him all the while. Gabe certainly doesn’t dislike this kind of attention, but he does kind of wish Bill could help him out a bit. He stumbles a bit walking backwards up the steps. Bill just shoves him against the side of the driver’s seat and Gabe closes his eyes for a moment, tasting Bill’s orange herbal tea on his tongue. 

Then Gabe pulls back from Bill and bends down to bite gently at Bill’s neck. “Where,” he says breathily, pressing his lips against Bill’s skin. 

Bill pulls Gabe along the pathway for a few steps, and then he pushes Gabe again, harder than when he had Gabe up against the TAI… bus door as he frantically keyed in the code. “Right here,” he says. Gabe topples over and it feels like his stomach does a brief panicked somersault until he collapses onto the couch. 

Bill sits on top of him, kissing harder and starting to rake his hands down Gabe’s sides. He’s more forceful than the last time, Gabe thinks, when their touches were lighter and meant to draw a lot of response out of the least amount of pressure. They didn’t have a lot of time in between Gabe writing and recording and the short, short filming and promotion.

But now…

They still don’t have much time, but they’re finally, finally alone. 

Gabe threads his fingers through Bill’s hair. It’s not as soft as it was all those months ago but it’s still long and Gabe briefly entertains the idea of grasping fistfuls of it and pulling and watching Bill gasp, moan, arch his back like before…

Instead, Gabe’s hands move softly through Bill’s hair and along his neck, even as Bill’s touch becomes rougher, pulling at Gabe’s shirt and the top of his pants. 

Bill moves his head to the side, down, so he can bite Gabe’s ear. “Why are your pants so tight?”

Gabe grins. “Yours are tighter. Want me to take ‘em off?” 

Bill growls and suddenly ruts his hips into Gabe’s. Fuck, he’s harder than Gabe is. Okay. That’s good. They _have_ had their hands all over each other since the walk back from Starbucks. Which is a bit more public than Gabe usually goes for, but it really got his heart going. Yeah, this is good. It’s really good. This is going well. Gabe’s hands slip down Bill’s chest and he pulls at Bill’s shirt. 

Bill shakes his head and bats Gabe’s hands away. “I don’t—not that.”

Gabe blinks. “What do you want?”

Bill’s cheeks go red again—which is absolutely not fair, why does he get to be so adorable and sexy at the same time, they really should be naked—and says, “I… can I, can I, um, blow you? Just that? I, um.”

Gabe rolls his head back. “Yes. God, please.”

“Okay, uh.”

And now Bill’s being gentle again, ghosting his fingers over Gabe’s hardening cock in his jeans. Gabe groans because it’s not enough, not yet. He sits up and pulls Bill down again, kissing again and taking one hand to find Bill’s, guide it over his cock. He presses down on Bill’s hand, and there’s more pressure, more friction. 

That seems to be the encouragement Bill needs. He unzips Gabe’s pants and pulls hard, harsh, on Gabe’s pants until they slide down his thighs. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” Gabe pants. “God, Bill, I can’t believe we’re doing this again.”

Bill laughs nervously, which is a sharp contrast to the way his fingers are scraping up Gabe’s thighs, raising red lines in their wake. Gabe needs to do _something_ , so he finally pulls Bill’s shirt off. He tosses it aside, on the floor, and grabs for the expanse of pale skin above him. He starts to kiss it, lick it, but Bill moves out of reach.

“I can’t either,” Bill says. He’s pulling Gabe’s underwear down now, moving his mouth closer to Gabe’s cock, which needs more attention after all of Bill’s rough touches on every other place on his body. 

“What did—” Gabe cuts off with a long sigh because now that’s Bill’s mouth on the head of his cock. He barely gets a chance to process this once Bill’s tongue starts moving and—

“S-slow down,” Gabe says. He glances down at Bill, whose eyes have taken on a playful glint.

Shit.

Bill starts moving faster, sucking harder. Gabe can feel the head of his cock hit the back of Bill’s throat, again and again. Gabe digs his nails into the fabric of the couch and lets his eyelids fall shut for just a moment. One of Bill’s hands closes around the rest of his cock with just a bit less pressure than Bill’s mouth. The other hand is still clawing at Gabe’s skin. 

Gabe opens his eyes again and gives Bill what he hopes is a pleading look. Bill’s still got that evil gleam on his face. Combined with the sight and sensation of Bill’s mouth around Gabe’s cock, Gabe can’t help the full body shiver that rips through him. Fuck, this is so good. He wants to last longer, but he doesn’t know if Bill’s going to let him. 

“Bill,” Gabe pants. “Slow—”

Bill takes his mouth off Gabe’s cock, but just starts fucking it with his fist instead. Still too fucking soft. 

“You’re going to come on my face, Gabe,” Bill growls, his voice already rougher. Gabe grits his teeth. God fucking— Bill had better be planning something slower for later. There had better be a fucking later. Because he loves, loves, _loves_ the idea of coming on Bill’s fucking face. 

Bill starts blowing Gabe again and Gabe groans, losing himself in the feeling that he didn’t think he would get again so soon. Stop. No. He shuts off the part of his mind that’s remembering what happened before, and just lets himself enjoy this. Enjoy Bill’s mouth and the too-rough, the too-soft, the lightest brush of teeth against the head of his cock that sends a hot thrill through his body.

Gabe takes his hands away from the couch and reaches for Bill’s head. As gently as he can with his shaking fingers, he takes handfuls of Bill’s hair and holds it. Bill’s own movements pull the hair partly out of Gabe’s grasp, and for a moment, Bill pauses and moans softly. Gabe’s breath catches in his throat. 

Then Bill somehow starts sucking harder, pressing his tongue and fingertips against Gabe’s skin and sending stronger electric waves of pleasure through his body. It keeps building, building, from the back of Gabe’s static-filled brain to his cock to his toes that are curling in his shoes. 

Numbly, he remembers that he has to—

Gabe releases his tight—when did that happen—grip on Bill’s hair and pats Bill’s bare shoulders hurriedly. “Bill, Bill. Hey, I’m—”

But Bill doesn’t take his mouth off Gabe’s cock until Gabe groans and lets go. He watches in dazed fascination as Bill draws back only after he’s got half a mouthful of Gabe’s come. The rest ends up on his lips, cheeks, chin, neck. It starts to run down to Bill’s chest. 

Gabe sits up, which is probably not the best idea since his body is still coming down from his orgasm. But he needs to… 

He presses his lips and tongue against the mix of sweat and come on Bill’s neck, moves down to his chest. Bill lowers his head to watch, panting. Gabe sees that Bill’s already pushed a hand into his tight pants.

Gabe rests one hand on Bill’s exposed hipbone, and lifts the other to wind around his back. He keeps licking at Bill’s skin clean until, barely a minute later, Bill bites his lip and draws in his breath sharply. 

It doesn’t come close to repaying for the blowjob, but hopefully, Bill will let Gabe treat him like a princess later. 

Later. Because they’re starting over. Because Bill says he wants to fuck and that’s fucking awesome. And Gabe can still use all the tricks that he remembers Bill loving, because why the hell not.

Bill moves off the couch to pick his shirt off the floor. It was apparently covering Gabe’s phone, which must have fallen out of his pocket while they were making out. Gabe reaches down to pick it up and check it. He’s got a photo message from Ryland.

And he sort of forgot that Bill was still hovering over him until Bill shouts, “What the _fuck!?_ ”

The picture is of Ryland posing dramatically next to a shirtless Butcher. That’s nothing unusual. Although… the message that’s come along with the picture says ‘Werewolf brother.’


	6. Andy "Butcher" Mrotek

_Small canvases are like gemstones. Tiny surfaces that need just the right cuts with paint or charcoal to expose the beauty and wonder of imagination. Large canvases are worlds of opportunity, just waiting to be discovered. A line, a swirl, a blast of spray paint in one corner can lead in a vastly different direction than the attention given to another._

_Butcher’s been working on his latest project for three days. He had an idea for the expanse of white fabric when he first brought it home, but with each day that the moon grows bigger in the sky, his wolf gives more input. Two creative minds shaping the art with gentle strokes and fierce claws that cut..._

_Butcher shakes his head and blinks to clear his head._

_He hadn’t realized he had shifted already. His front paws are wet with paint. The brilliant reds and greens appear yellow unless he focuses hard. Likewise, the blues have faded to soft grays._

_The wolf wants to keep painting. Butcher wants to keep painting. Paint on his paws feels strange, but also really good. Kind of like when he would play in the mud when he was a pup—a kid. Wet and cool and sticky. Smells like bitter minerals and oils instead of fresh earth and rain. The wolf likes it as much as Butcher does._

_He can still read which tubes of paint are which color. He carefully takes each tube in his teeth and squeezes the paint onto the empty places on the canvas. Then he balances shakily on his hind legs and starts smearing the colors that he still can’t see properly._

_He drags his paws across the canvas and lets the wolf relish the sensation._

_The next morning, Butcher wakes up naked on the floor. The paint from last night has dried all over his skin. It’s flaking off at his fingernails. It’s smeared on the plastic sheet spread on the floor. He sits up and takes a look at the canvas._

_In waves of russet red and sunset orange, near-black violet and navy blue, jade green and rosy pink, they’ve painted something like space or a forest (or both) with a round circular shape left unpainted in the center. The moon. It’s easy to see the difference between the places where Butcher had more input versus where the wolf took over, smearing over his work. But the wolf’s artistic vision is not so different from Butcher’s. In fact, it feels like the wolf knew more about what Butcher was trying to create than Butcher did._

_Butcher doesn’t sign or name the painting. It’s on his mind as he takes a quick shower, grabs breakfast and leaves for work, but he can’t. He can’t think of a name that would express that serene feeling of togetherness with the wolf._

_He’ll send it to his brother this weekend._

……

Humans and their hormones and sweat and dirty clothes. Feeble attempts to mask the scents with oils and chemicals. Buses and cars and their gasoline and exhaust and hot metal. The enticing aromas of pizza, subs, Chinese, Italian, Mexican, Indian, Thai. An inescapable and stifling blend of humans, machines, food, weed, cigarettes, alcohol, and nameless things burning in corners.

Butcher loves the smell of tour. He loves being on tour and playing for crowds. Meeting old friends, making new friends. Traveling across the country. Experiencing new things. Rediscovering the beauty of life and the indomitable power of music everywhere he goes. 

Writing and recording Santi was painful and stressful at times, but it’s all worth it for this. Honda Civic Tour, 2007. It’s a whirlwind of chaos and love, especially with the presence of Fall Out Boy, +44, and Cobra Starship.

It’s also summer, and summer means more opportunities to take off clothes.

Like what’s happening today.

So. Apparently Mike told Gabe that he’s a werewolf, which led to Gabe telling the rest of his band, which led to Nate and Vicky approaching Butcher and Sisky and asking about it. There didn’t seem to be much they could do to persuade them otherwise (since apparently Gabe is a vampire, what the hell), so Butcher and Sisky said, yes, they’re all werewolves. Except Bill, of course.

Which led to today. There are a few more days until the full moon, but it’s full enough to shift without too much pain and stress from the wolf. With the exclusion of Gabe, Cobra Starship offered to spend the day at a dog park with Butcher and Sisky as wolves. And Mike.

So they can all run and satisfy their wolves’ desires to chase each other around, since the Honda Civic Tour’s venues aren’t close enough to non-populated areas. 

Butcher and Sisky are sitting patiently in the back seat of a twelve passenger van while Ryland drives, Suarez navigates, Vicky sings along to Big Girls Don’t Cry on the radio, and Nate snickers at something that Mike’s whispered to him. 

Butcher’s happy that he and Sisky are going to be the only ones taking advantage of the dog park to run around properly. Mike can play with the actual dogs all he wants while Butcher gets to spend quality wolf time with Sisky. If he’s lucky, he’ll be able to tire Sisky out enough that they can fall asleep together once they get back to the buses. Wolf cuddles.

Sisky’s got his paws pressed against the window and he’s watching the buildings pass by with excitement. Butcher’s taking up most of the bench seat, which bounces them both into the air with each bump Ryland drives over. 

Suddenly Suarez yells, “No, that’s our turn!” 

“Fuck!” Ryland shouts over the radio. 

Sisky is thrown across Butcher’s back as Ryland makes a hairpin turn. He twists around and ends up falling onto the floor. Butcher sits up and watches Ryland pull into the first parking spot he sees. Nate slides the door open, since he’s sitting closest to it. Yet somehow Mike is still the first one out. Not that surprising, really.

Butcher bounds out of the van after the humans are out. He waits next to Sisky as Vicky fastens a collar around each of their throats. They’re annoying dog things, but having the collars is necessary in a place like this. Each one has a fake rabies tag, as well as a tag with Bill’s phone number. BUTCHER is stitched badly onto the band of his collar, courtesy of Tony. 

Once the collars are on, Sisky and Butcher take off towards the large grassy field just past the parking lot. His wolf is ecstatic about all the open space, which fills his head with excitement. Several dozen people are mingling around the grassy area, playing with their dogs. These dogs look a bit startled as the wolves charge in, and a few of them start growling. 

Butcher just ignores the dogs’ reactions and keeps running until he’s almost at the edge of a large pond. Sisky arrives only a split second after him. Butcher cranes his head back to see if anyone was following. 

It looks like Vicky, Nate, Suarez, and Ryland are all making their way over, although all but Vicky are stopping to pet a matching pair of big white dogs. Mike is nowhere to be seen, but Butcher can still just barely catch his scent. It’s more challenging to do so in a place like this, but no more challenging than trying to find the other members of the band last year on Warped Tour. 

Or tracking down Mike in a merch trailer about a week and a half ago. 

Sisky, meanwhile, has stopped to nose at an abandoned yellow frisbee under a flower bush. He sticks his paw under the bush and manages to drag it out. Then Butcher watches in amusement as Sisky starts struggling to pick it up without also getting a mouthful of dirt and grass.

“Yeah, sorry, those two are mine,” Butcher hears Vicky saying. He looks back again. Vicky’s only about halfway across the field that Butcher and Sisky crossed, talking with a black woman wearing a wide brimmed straw hat. There’s a scruffy brownish-black dog sitting in the grass at her feet. 

“Oh, they seem happy to be out here,” the woman says. Butcher catches her gaze. It’s friendly and cheery. Her dog is keeping an eye on Butcher, but is more focused on panting than growling. 

Butcher scans the rest of the dogs and dog-owners. Most of them are ignoring him and Sisky. That’s good. This is Canada, so there’s a higher chance that some of these people may have seen a wolf before. But it seems like the collars are easing any concerns they might have. Good.

Still no sign of Mike… 

Vicky’s still talking. “Yeah, yeah. My friends and I have been, ah, on a road trip and we thought it’d be nice to let them run around for a bit.” 

“Oh, wow, I can’t imagine what it must be like with those two in a car together!”

Vicky laughs. “Oh, they’re actually really well behaved.”

“They’re so big though! What breed are they? Or a mix?”

“Um, they’re rescues, so I don’t know exactly.”

Butcher looks back at Sisky just in time to see him finally pick up the frisbee, although he still ends up with a few leaves of grass sticking out of his mouth. Butcher lets out a low whuff and paces back to Vicky, since she’s apparently going to be the one pretending to be their owner. Sisky follows beside him.

“Come here boys,” Vicky calls, waving at them. 

“What are their names?” Vicky’s new friend reaches out towards Butcher, palm up. Butcher indulges her and rests his muzzle on her hand. She pets his head softly, running her other hand between his ears.

“The blond one is Sisky and that brown one you’ve got is Butcher.”

“Butcher?” The woman briefly stops petting his head and Butcher pulls away to sit down in the grass beside Sisky. “Wow. What an unusual name!”

“Oh, haha,” Vicky says. “Yeah, his first owner worked at a butcher shop.”

The woman nods. “Ah, yes I see. My girl’s name is Hunter for a similar reason.” She bends down to pet her dog’s head the same way she had petted Butcher. Then she straightens up and reaches for her purse. She takes out a handful of sweet-smelling nuggets. 

“Do they like sweet potato treats?” the woman asks. Butcher is unimpressed by the scent of the woman’s dog treat and ignores it, but Sisky bounces excitedly up to her, swishing his tail back and forth. A decent imitation of a dog, which Butcher knows helps draw less attention to their size. Unrealistic for a real dog. Big enough to cast hints of suspicion.

Sisky gobbles down two of the woman’s treats as she continues to chat amiably with Vicky about her dog and the positives of adopting older dogs instead of buying puppies. Then Sisky turns back to Butcher, grinning. Wait, no, he’s holding a treat shaped like a small bone in his teeth. He springs towards Butcher and lowers his head.

Sets it down on the ground in front of Butcher.

Butcher stretches his head out and licks Sisky softly on the muzzle before he bends down to pick up the treat.

Oh. Shit. It tastes so good. He’s going to have to look for these the next time he goes to PetCo—no. He’s a wolf—werewolf—and he will eat either human food or wolf food. Not dog food. It’s made of sweet potatoes. He can eat normal sweet potatoes. Whenever he gets that opportunity again.

Sisky’s gone back to the frisbee. And Ryland and Suarez have caught up with them now. Sisky dashes over to them and runs a circle around the two.

“Hey, Sisky!” Ryland takes the frisbee from Sisky and prepares to throw it. “Ready?”

Butcher watches Sisky’s tail sway back and forth fondly. This is perfect, just him and Sisky and Cobra playing together. No Bill to hover over them, no Mike to ruin things, and no Chislett to get that skeptical look on his face whenever Butcher’s affection for Sisky moves past ‘just friends.’

Ryland releases the frisbee. 

Sisky takes a giant leap into the air, chasing it. 

Butcher catches a familiar scent on the breeze.


	7. Ryland Blackinton

_Ryland never suspected that The Academy Is… was full of werewolves until the day that Gabe told him The Academy Is… was full of werewolves forty minutes before they went on stage._

_It went a little like this:_

_Gabe is still a bit hungover from the blood from last night. He’s assured everyone that he’ll be fine to perform but he needs some Gabe Time. And not the masturbation type of Gabe Time. He’s been muttering in the corner of the dressing room for almost half an hour, cradling a blue Solo cup of Suarez’ miracle hangover cure in his hands._

_Ryland glances nervously at him. “You think he’ll be alright?”_

_Suarez shrugs. “Yeah. This isn’t the worst he’s been after having blood.”_

_“What was he doing with Carden?” Vicky asks._

_“Is that really what’s import—”_

_“Holy shit!” Gabe suddenly exclaims from across the room. Everyone stops to look at him. He’s dropped his cup on the floor. “Carden’s a werewolf! They’re all werewolves!”_

_“What?” Nate says._

_“Who?” Vicky says. She looks delighted._

_Gabe slaps a hand over his mouth. “Oh. Shit. I wasn’t supposed to… Uh…”_

_“All of The Academy Is…?” Ryland asks eagerly. Holy fuck, that would be so cool._

_“No…” Gabe says. “Uh, I think Carden said that Bill’s not. But the rest probably are… Unless Carden was just drunk and—”_

_“That would explain how Butcher could find you,” Suarez says thoughtfully. “If he’s a werewolf, he probably has heightened senses. Huh. Interesting. I didn’t think werewolves were real.”_

_Nate snickers. “Dude, you’re in a band with a vampire.”_

_“Well, we didn’t think vampires were real until we met Gabe,” Ryland says._

……

Ryland’s mouth drops open in shock as Mike barrels past him in all his black-brown-white furry wolfy glory, leaps over Sisky, and snatches the frisbee straight out of the air. As Mike lands, he keeps running, followed closely by a snarling Sisky. Butcher chases after them both. All three wolves start running in a wide arc around the open area of the dog park.

All in a matter of seconds. 

Suarez grabs Ryland’s sleeve. “What the fuck is he doing?”

Ryland’s face is a mask of horror, he’s sure. “Dude. I have no fucking clue.” 

He hears someone nearby talking. “What on earth… That dog is even bigger than the others!”

And another, “Where’s its collar?”

“Almost looks like a wolf…”

“Hey! Miss! Is that your dog too?”

Shit. Shit. Mike isn’t supposed to be a wolf now. They are not prepared for this. Sisky and Butcher had warned that Wolf-Mike was bigger and more prone to aggression, for whatever reason. Back at the buses, when Ryland asked about it, Mike had shrugged and said the details didn’t matter, because he has no desire to pretend to be a dog when he’s a wolf. Butcher gave Ryland, Suarez, Nate, and Vicky a crash course on what to expect from him and Sisky: just let them run around and do whatever they want; don’t worry because they can still understand human speech when they’re wolves, etc. It all came down to the fact that Butcher and Sisky can handle themselves and only need Cobra to handle any curious people at the dog park.

But Mike. He’s kinda just changed the entire dynamic. Now they’re actually acting like real wolves, and it’s kind of scary. 

Sisky and Butcher are both snarling at Mike as the trio of wolves starts barreling back towards their group. Vicky is also running at them.

Ryland looks helplessly from Vicky to the sight of three large wolves running past confused dog walkers and startled dogs. Christ. Those dogs must have been antsy enough about two relatively calm wolves in their nice safe dog park. Now there’s a significantly more dangerous and larger wolf in their territory. At least none of the larger dogs have started chasing them. 

Vicky’s reached the group now. “Catch him!” she says in passing, and continues running back towards the place they parked.

“What?!” Ryland cries. Catch him? Catch Mike? Is she kidding? He doubts that anyone could catch Mike in this state. Trying would likely get Ryland flattened. Or eaten. 

Shit. He had thought they would be like big friendly dogs. But now even Sisky and Butcher are acting wild with Mike around them. 

Mike snarls, louder and deeper than Sisky and Butcher, and turns sharply to charge at the other two wolves. Somewhere, he’s dropped the frisbee, if he didn’t break it when he snatched it out of the air. Sisky braces himself as Mike leaps onto his back, and the two roll over and growl at each other.

“Shit!” Nate says. He starts running at the wolves, and Ryland follows, hoping Suarez is right after him. 

“Are they okay?” A dog owner asks as they pass. 

“Yes! They’re fine! Just playing a bit rough!” Ryland shouts.

“Those are yours?” A very startled woman says.

“Yes!” Suarez says. “They’re good!” 

Mike and Sisky are still rolling around in the grass when Ryland, Suarez, and Nate catch up with them. Butcher’s growling and trying to push into the tussle, but every time he gets close, Mike stops snapping at Sisky’s ears to snap at Butcher’s face. It doesn’t look like things will end very well at this rate. 

Nate inches closer and stretches a shaky hand towards Sisky, but Suarez grabs him and pulls him back, away from the dangerous mass of wolves.

“Do you want to die?” Suarez demands shakily once he’s got Nate at a safe distance. 

“Well, what the fuck are we supposed to do?” Nate asks.

Ryland shakes his head when Nate and Suarez look back at him. Nobody has a good answer.

Mike growls loudly, making the three humans jump. Butcher and Sisky have him pinned with paws and claws and teeth. Mike twists angrily underneath them and Sisky headbutts him. For the immediate moment, it seems like Mike won’t be going anywhere. 

Just in time too, because Vicky’s running back with Mike’s collar in hand. “Are you guys just going to stand there?” she demands. She pushes past them and kneels down next to the writhing pile of wolves. “Behave,” she says to Mike, who snaps at her hand. “Calm down. You know you have to wear this. Butcher and Sisky are putting up with theirs. So can you.”

She loops the heavy-looking collar around Mike’s furry neck and fastens it, somehow without getting her arms punctured by his bared white teeth. Ryland watches in awe. Nate and Suarez are motionless beside him.

“God, Vicky, I don’t know if I’m turned on by that or just really impressed,” Ryland says.

Vicky stands up and raises an eyebrow. “Let’s go with impressed. Also I blame you guys for not watching Mike.”

“He wasn’t supposed to—” Nate starts, but his retort is cut off by the growling and barking of the three wolves, who quickly untangle themselves from each other and start off across the wide expanse of grassy Canadian space. 

“Whatever,” Vicky sighs. “Just, if anyone asks, they’re rescues, we don’t know what breed they are, and no child should be allowed anywhere near Mike.”

“I call watching Sisky.” Ryland says.

The others glare at him. 

“Just kidding,” Ryland laughs. He wasn’t kidding.

“It kinda looks like all the dogs are scared of them,” Suarez says. Ryland looks for the dogs closest to the wolves and sure enough, most of them are either standing very close to their owners or leading their owners away from the wolves’ path. Suarez continues, “As long as we keep Mike away from well, most of the dogs, they should all be safe.”

“Excuse me,” an elderly woman’s voice cuts into their conversation. “Are you quite sure that big dark dog of yours is behaved enough to be around other dogs?”

“Yes?” Ryland says, glancing at the others for support and finding them to be wandering away. Traitors. He turns back to the old woman with a reassuring smile on his face. “Our friend Bill is better at getting him to listen. He’s. On a date today. So we’re taking them out for some exercise.”

The woman frowns and for a very tense moment, Ryland is sure that she knows. He adds, “Mike—the big one—he just gets really excited. And plays a bit rough. But only with Sisky and Butcher.”

“Butcher?”

Shit, he should have called him Andy. But at least she’s not interrogating him about Mike anymore. Ryland coughs out a laugh. “Butcher’s the sweetest, honestly. It’s kind of an ironic name. He’d never hurt a fly.”

The woman turns to watch the wolves chase each other across the grassy space. To Ryland’s relief, they weren’t acting wild and violent anymore. Just running. 

Finally the old woman sighs, in a soft wheeze that sort of reminds Ryland of his own grandmother. “They seem very happy to be out. It’s always nice to see these bigger dogs enjoy the space. You know, not all owners who have these bigger ones have the time to give them the exercise they need.”

Ryland thinks of Bill confining four wolves to the tiny amount of space in a tour bus and winces. “Yeah…” 

“Well, you’d best chase after your dogs, young man,” the woman says, in a much brighter tone than before. “I’m sure there’s a couple balls lying around here that they’ll love, if they like playing catch.”

If Mike, Butcher, and Sisky like playing catch. Ryland can’t imagine Mike going along with that game. Sisky, yes. Butcher, maybe. For now, he’s content to do what Butcher suggested earlier and leave them to their own devices. And hope they won’t cause too many more problems in the meantime.

The lady might be waiting for an answer, so Ryland nods and hesitates before walking away from the old woman. He looks around and catches sight of Alex and Nate, who have tracked down the frisbee that Sisky found earlier.

“Check it out,” Nate holds up the frisbee and points at a curved row of dents and scratches from where Mike bit it when he caught it. 

“I’m surprised he didn’t break it,” Suarez says, taking it out of Nate’s hand and tracing the scratches. “That’s incredible.”

“Do you want to try throwing it for them again?” Ryland asks.

Nate shrugs. “How long until one of them bites too hard? Three throws? Four?”

“Sisky! Butcher! Mike!” Suarez shouts. The wolves are a pretty far distance away—maybe almost the length of a football field—but they slow down when they hear their names called. 

Ryland watches Suarez throw the frisbee hard. It flies high, curving up and to the left. Butcher and Mike are almost neck and neck chasing after it, but Mike crashes into Butcher mid-stride and they both go down. Sisky leaps and sails over the obstacle and snatches the frisbee before it hits the ground.

“...wow.” Nate says. 

Sisky brings the frisbee back, panting and swishing his tail from side to side in a way that almost looks like a dog wagging its tail. Cute, although Sisky’s mouthful of sharp wolf teeth ruin the image. 

Ryland takes the frisbee, which now has two large wolf bite marks, and throws it again before Mike and Butcher can start running towards their group. Butcher catches his throw, but he drops the frisbee when Mike tries to tackle him. Sisky returns the frisbee once more. Butcher actually bit small holes in the plastic, but it’s still throwable. Nate takes his turn, throwing smooth and even.

Mike catches it. And the frisbee snaps in two. 

“Called it,” Nate laughs. 

Mike drops the halves of the frisbee in the grass and walks away from the other wolves, towards the pond. Vicky’s already over there, so Ryland, Nate, and Suarez unanimously decide that she will be responsible for Mike. Butcher and Sisky, meanwhile, lie down in the grass.

As they walk over to the friendlier wolves, a thought suddenly occurs to Ryland. “Can we still pet them? I mean, they’re Butcher and Sisky. Do you think they would think it’s weird?”

“Hm, I don’t know,” Suarez says. “It can’t hurt to ask.” They all come to a stop next to the wolves.

“But would it be insulting to ask?” Ryland presses. “Like. What if Bill came up to you and asked if he could, I don’t know, pet your arm or something.” 

“But they’re werewolves,” Nate says. He looks down at Sisky and Butcher, who have not moved from their spot in the grass. The broken pieces of the frisbee are still on the ground, and Nate scoops them up. “Don’t they have, like, animal instincts?”

Sisky answers that for them by sticking his head under Ryland’s hand and panting. After a moment, Ryland strokes Sisky’s head like he would a dog. He lowers himself until he’s kneeling in the grass and Sisky pushes his head closer, until Ryland is practically hugging the wolf’s neck. 

“I guess… this is okay?” Ryland says. He scratches and strokes Sisky’s neck and shoulders, and the wolf drops his head onto Ryland’s shoulder. 

“Alright,” Suarez says. He and Nate sit in the grass next to Butcher and do their best to imitate what Ryland and Sisky are doing. It’s kind of peaceful for a while. Ryland can’t forget about the snarling from earlier, or the very large teeth that are extremely close to his shoulder, but he can enjoy this. Petting Sisky and letting the werewolf bassist lean against him. 

Of course, it can’t last. Ryland jumps when he feels his phone vibrating in his back pocket, and Sisky steps away from him so that he can answer whoever is…

Oh, it’s Chislett. What could he want? 

“Hello?”

“Hey, uh, this is Michael. Um, I was wondering… have you seen my band? Bill’s here, but I haven’t seen anyone else. Or you guys. Did you, uh—”

“Sorry, we all went out.” Ryland says.

“Do we need to go back already?” Nate says.

“Something happen over there?” Ryland asks.

“Ah, Bill’s starting to wonder where you are.” Chislett says. “I think he thinks I know, so, you’ve got time to come back if you’re not too far…” 

“Got it. We’ll head back right as soon as...” Ryland trails off and looks around for Mike and Vicky. They’re still by the pond, but it looks like Vicky’s trying to drag him away from the water. Because… Mike is splashing in the pond. And splashing Vicky. 

“...right as soon as we figure out a way to get Mike back in the van.”


	8. Adam T Siska

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for not-quite-sex. Also werewolves being their full-moon selves, which in Mike's case means aggression.

_Mike is always looking for some outlet for his excess emotions. Adam can’t really imagine him ever settling in a pack, even though he needs other wolves to exist._

_Or humans aggressive enough to clash with._

_Like Bill. Mike argues with Bill just for the challenge of it. He physically fought with Adam on full moons until Butcher joined the band. Butcher is usually a pretty calm person, but he won’t take Mike’s aggression sitting down. Adam didn’t, for the record, but he’s never been good at fighting. He used to fight with Mike as well as he could, but Mike has always had the advantages of age and years of building muscles from swimming._

_About ten minutes ago, they stopped for the gas and Bill demanded ‘at least half an hour’ at the snack shack nearby to ‘get away from you wolf freaks.’ Tom wasn’t supposed to follow after him, being a wolf freak himself, but he did. Presumably to get away from Mike._

_Mike finally emerges from the bathroom stalls with a stony face and storms into the gas station mart. He’s got blood smeared on his lips and the beginnings of a black eye, which will both heal in a couple hours. Adam snickers at the sight of his face and Mike glares._

_“Got something to say?”_

_“At least he was nice enough to avoid your nose.”_

_Mike doesn’t think this is funny. He grabs Adam’s elbow and pulls him out of the mart._

_“You wanna ask if he kicked my ass too?” Mike hisses._

_Adam rolls his eyes. He doesn’t really care. They’ve got enough sense not to beat each other too badly. They’re on tour and they need to keep appearances up. Mike’s learned over the years. And Bill doesn’t need to know the extent of what they do during these nights._

_But it’s still a full moon and Adam can feel his wolf urging him in all the wrong directions, just the same as Mike and Butcher. However, unlike Mike and Butcher, he doesn’t feel the need to paint another wolf’s face red with blood and blue with bruises. He wants something else._

_Mike pulls him to the shadowed picnic pavilion and whirls around. His green eyes are shimmering in the rest stop’s dim lamplight. Green flickering to golden yellow. Barely holding it together. Perfect._

_Adam reaches out and grabs Mike by his hair, pulls him close to crash their lips together. He tastes Mike’s blood and licks instinctively, sealing his mouth around the torn lower lip. So good. His wolf is howling, cheering, excited._

_The moon’s got him hot and he needs his own way to work it out._

_Mike growls. His hands move to Adam’s hips and squeeze. “Fifteen minutes until Bill—”_

_“Can’t you finish in that time?”_

……

“Adam, I need to talk to you.”

Adam looks away from the stage, where he’s been watching +44’s crew finish setting up. He’s sweaty and a little exhausted from TAI…’s show, which is probably the reason why he didn’t hear or smell Bill approaching him until he spoke. 

Most days on the Honda Civic Tour, once TAI… is done performing, they finish their jobs as quickly and efficiently as they can, and then spend the remainder of their time before bus call relaxing. By the time everyone helps pack up the equipment and tries to cool off or clean the sweat off themselves, they’ve only got an hour or two before they need to start moving to the next state. 

Adam’s done his job and helped pack up the gear, but he loves being sidestage and peering into the crowd, which is still energized from the last performance. He’s fine waiting another day to wash himself. 

Bill doesn’t really share that opinion. Adam was expecting Bill to be, well, not here. Showering? Maybe sleeping? 

It doesn’t matter. Bill’s here, and he still smells like the stage and the excitement of performing for a crowd that sings the lyrics back. Adam smiles warmly and steps away, closer to Bill so they can hear each other better.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Uh…” 

Bill breaks eye contact with Adam. His mouth moves to make words, but no sound comes out.

Okay. 

That means that Bill has no idea how to start this. 

Adam’s mind starts racing to try and help Bill out. What’s been bothering Bill lately? It isn’t stress from writing or recording songs anymore. Mike hasn’t been fighting with Bill. The shows have been great. Bill seems happy onstage. Chislett’s amazing and is really fitting in. So…

“Um, what do you think of—”

Adam waits for Bill to finish his thought. Bill doesn’t.

“The... tour?” he suggests. Bill looks conflicted, but he doesn’t correct Adam. Getting warmer? Keep talking? “I love it. Everyone’s great. It’s nice hanging out with the guys from Fall Out Boy again. And everyone in Cobra is really cool.”

“Yeah...”

Okay, that’s a hit. Adam _has_ noticed that Bill’s finally given in to the encouragement from his friends and started spending time with Gabe. Which is awesome. Yeah, some time has passed, but Gabe and Bill have always clicked so well. Maybe they aren’t clicking like they used to, and Bill doesn’t know how to work things out? 

Adam starts by testing the waters. “It’s cool seeing Gabe again, right?”

“Yeah, it is. Kinda… it feels a bit sudden.”

Sudden? What’s sudden? Bill waited a whole week before he started actually talking to Gabe. 

“What?”

Bill starts pacing, probably unintentionally, so Adam follows along. “I… uh. This. You know. Summer. Tour. It’s, um. Doing… it can put things like, like stress, or… Between two bands.” Bill looks desperately back at Adam.

Adam has no idea what Bill just said. “So…”

Bill waves his hand around. “G-getting too close. It makes things awkward. Right?”

Adam nods slowly. “Okay.” He really doesn’t think forming close relationships with people in other bands makes anything awkward. Even more physical relationships can work really well. Yeah, people end up spending months apart from each other, but there are phones and computer instant messaging that can keep people together. But clearly Bill’s anxious about something going wrong.

“You don’t think…”

Adam reaches out and pulls Bill into a one-armed hug. Bill collapses into the embrace. “Hey, if you feel, I don’t know, pressured or anything—”

Bill quickly pulls away. “I don’t—” 

“—or you want to put some distance for your own comfort—”

“It’s not… no, I just think it’s—”

“Space is good. Let yourself think.”

“...space. Yeah.” Bill walks backwards into a wall and slides to the floor. “Wait, space from—”

“From us.” Adam smiles in a way he hopes is reassuring. “You know. We’re all crammed together in a bus, like, every day for the next few months. It’s good to get away from that. Like, with other people. So what happened last year doesn’t happen again, right?” Bill shakes his head, but Adam can see a shadow of a smile on his face. “Uh, does that answer your question?” To be honest, Adam’s kind of forgotten the question in his attempt to calm Bill down.

Bill drags his fingers through his hair. “I… I think so. So, uh, take things slow so I don’t ruin things… And take some space. Personal space.”

Adam’s come to the realization that he still has no idea what Bill’s been talking about. He’s been guessing, but Bill hasn’t exactly confirmed anything. Hopefully his advice works for Bill’s problem. 

But Bill’s already leaving, so clearly he’s gotten something out of it. Good sign. 

Mark, Travis, Shane, and Craig are walking onstage to roaring applause, which is Adam’s cue to leave. He takes one last peek past the speakers and briefly makes eye contact with a girl leaning on the barrier, who waves excitedly at him. He smiles, waves back, and leaves the side of the stage. Then he starts to make his way quickly across the parking lot, listening carefully to avoid anyone that he might run into. 

There’s an old storage shed on the far side of the lot that Adam and Butcher noticed earlier. Butcher should be waiting there already, and Adam will arrive before +44 finishes their first song. 

He breaks into a faster pace once he catches Butcher’s scent on a sudden burst of wind. Adam runs around the corner of the shed.

Butcher catches Adam and spins him around so they don’t end up on the ground. He’s grinning as he presses a light kiss against Adam’s nose before setting him back down on the ground.

“In a hurry?” He’s shirtless and his hair is wildly curly from the show.

“I got held up,” Adam says. He closes his eyes, winds his arms around Butcher’s bare back, and holds him close. Butcher leans in and cradles Adam’s face in his hands. He always kisses too gently at first, and Adam always has to be the one to speed things up. Butcher starts at Adam’s jaw and moves down to his neck, lingering just enough to leave a ghost impression of each kiss behind. 

Adam sighs and tilts his head up to make it easier for Butcher, relishing the soft points of contact. Butcher’s teeth graze against his collarbone and Adam bites the inside of his cheek to keep from begging for more. It would be so easy to grab Butcher’s hips and grind them against his own, speed this up. That’s what Mike likes. 

But Butcher likes drawing it out. And he always makes it worth the wait. 

Adam slides his hands down Butcher’s back until his palms are pressed against Butcher’s thighs. Butcher guides Adam’s head back down and their lips meet as Adam gently draws their bodies closer together. He wants to feel everything.

Across the parking lot, the crowd screams with applause. The sound carries across the open space of the lot to Adam and Butcher’s space. For a moment, Adam’s wolf remembers the rush of the show from earlier today and presses closer against Butcher’s body in a single rapid movement. He clings onto Butcher, filling his senses with the other werewolf’s smell, taste, heartbeat. Sweaty and hot. Be closer, feel more, take all of it. 

“I love you,” Butcher whispers against Adam’s lips. 

The wolf sings inside Adam’s chest and begs for more, more, please, anything. 

Adam smiles. He opens his eyes and there’s Butcher’s face, glowing in the light of the setting sun. 

“I love you too.”


	9. Mike Carden

_“Hello. This is Guy Ripley with the BBC World News. I’m interviewing Mike Carden, rhythm guitarist of The Academy Is… Mike, thank you for this interview.”_

_“Yeah, it’s a real pleasure, Guy.”_

_“I simply love your band! Your new album, Santi, I just can’t stop listening to it.”_

_“We play some of the songs almost every night. You hear it… almost every night.”_

_“Yes, and what a fantastic performance you put on! From the moment you step onto that stage, you each shine with grace and talent. William Beckett and his shining vocals, Adam Siska and his rhythmic bass, The Butcher and his stunning percussion, Michael Guy Chislett and his stellar guitar, and yourself. I’m absolutely blown away by your energy and charisma.”_

_“Thanks.”_

_“Now I have a few questions for you. My first question: Is it true that The Academy Is… is made up of werewolves?”_

_“Ha. No, that’s not true.”_

_“Very well. Is it true that you discovered The Butcher on a full moon when you were trying to start a fight as a method of dealing with werewolf aggression?”_

_“...”_

_“Are you, in fact, the strongest and most aggressive werewolf in The Academy Is…?”_

_“Uh…”_

_“How long have you been a werewolf? Were you born one? Is it a curse? Can you become a wolf at any time you choose, or just during the days of and surrounding the full moon? If you bite someone as a werewolf, will they also become a werewolf? What about silver? How does silver affect you?”_

_“I… uh… haha. I need to leave.”_

……

“Romeo? Can you hear me? It’s Mike! Romeo? Are you being a good boy?”

Mike can still faintly hear Romeo’s soft panting over the phone speaker. He glances quickly at the service bar. Fucking terrible connection. It’s going to drop the call soon. It’s not like they’re in the middle of nowhere.

“Romeo?”

There’s a gentle woof from the phone speaker that makes Mike gasp and grin. 

“Good boy! Good boy, Romeo! You’re the best! I love you so much.”

Romeo woofs a couple more times, and then Mike’s phone drops the call. Now it’s letting him know that he has no service anymore. What a piece of shit. He puts his phone away, smiling that he was able to hear his dog’s voice, however brief the conversation was.

Bill is actually in the bus when Mike returns, which is a bit of a surprise. He seems to have been spending more and more of their free time away from the bus recently. Ever since he’s started showing up to the shows smelling like Gabe. Ha. It’s funny how the two of them have been trying to cover it up. Cologne and body spray are just red flags to a werewolf’s sense of smell. 

Shit, maybe Bill wants to _talk_ about something. Mike wants to avoid that. He’s got a handful of excuses for situations like that. Unless it’s Bill saying he’s got ideas for the next album already, which Mike absolutely has time for. If it’s anything else, though, he might have to take a quick escape through the back window. Because Mike actually does have things to do. 

Sisky’s snacks aren’t going to eat themselves. He’s got two bags of Doritos stashed in here. Thought he could get away with one. 

Fool.

Shit, but they’re hidden under the couch where Bill is currently sitting. He can’t get to them like that. So Mike just averts his eyes and tries to walk past Bill without initiating a conversation. 

“Have you heard from Ryan recently?”

Mike stops short. “Ryan.” 

That fucker. 

“No.” He hasn’t been keeping track of Ryan, or the rest of Panic! for that matter. He’s done his best to stop thinking of those little shits whenever possible. 

Why on earth would Bill want anything to do with Panic! after they ruined the Truckstops and Statelines tour? Yeah, Ryan apologized constantly for it, but that was more due to the numerous times Mike shifted into a wolf and snarled at him. Because if Ryan wasn’t going to be sincere about his apology, then Mike could still put him in his place another way.

“Pete says they’re in a cabin somewhere in the mountains, trying to write their next album.”

Mike scoffs at the idea of those kids trying to be serious. They’re more likely experimenting with drugs. Mike remembers vividly how quickly Brendon got hooked on drinking. Now that Jon’s a member of their band, it’s only a matter of time before they start writing songs about weed. Pete thinks way too highly of them. 

“So?”

“So…” Bill looks at Mike oddly. “You really think they’re actually writing?”

“What do you care?” Mike sniffs at the air, trying his best to be subtle about it. Those bags of Doritos are tantalizing, but there’s got to be more. Smells like Sisky’s got an unopened box of Cheez-Its in his bunk. Also smells like Sisky tried to cover up the smell with his dirty socks. Ha. Amateur. 

“I just… I don’t know. I’m just, Gabe reminded me about Ryan. This morning, he uh. It—Ryan came up in conversation. Like, you remember how he barely understood anything about being a werewolf?” 

“Yeah.” That was real funny. The kid thought chocolate was poisonous to werewolves. He and his human father had avoided chocolate for years because of it.

Mike puts his hands in his pockets and walks casually towards the bunks. Just pacing, like he’s bored. Bill’s not paying much attention anyway. A quick glance over his shoulder allows Mike to see that Bill’s staring at his phone. Good. Mike opens the door to the bunk area and pretends to look for something in his bunk. 

“Like, like how he and his dad didn’t realize that there’s silver in medical equipment and he would always get a rash when he’d go to a hospital or a doctor.”

“Uh-huh.”

Bill looks up and Mike smoothly moves to lean against the frame of the door. “You guys said your parents were all werewolves. You had someone to tell you everything.”

“We had to tell you everything.” 

Bill shakes his head. “Yeah, and you had to tell Ryan too. Stuff about silver and chocolate. And, I was thinking… it never came up before, so. How do alcohol and drugs affect wolves?”

God, this is annoying. Where’s Sisky to take care of this exposition shit when you need him? 

“Bill, we’ve had alcohol. We’re fine with it. And I don’t know about any drugs besides pot. You and I have smoked it together before, so I… Oh. You were always high before I was. Ha!” A grin pulls at his lips. “Bill, I think I know what you’re thinking of. Jon the bad influence and Ryan the werewolf and Brendon the kid who wants to try everything and Spencer the three-to-one outnumbered voice of reason. All alone somewhere without any supervision. Who knows what they’re up to?”

Not that Mike’s wishing for _bad_ things to happen to those kids. But it would be a little satisfying if something... unfortunate happens. 

“I’m calling Jon.”

Mike laughs. He turns around, confident that Bill’s going to be focused enough on making this call that he can swipe Sisky’s Cheez-Its. Too bad about the Doritos, but these will be a good consolation prize. He reaches quickly into Sisky’s bunk and pushes aside Sisky’s pile of sweaty clothes. There it is. Mike grabs it and holds it under his arm as he heads back for the front of the bus. 

“He’s not answering.” Bill’s tapping nervously on his thigh. His phone is pressed against his ear.

“They’re probably fine.” Mike says. “If something happened, they’d call Pete. Why do you care about this again?”

“I’m going to try again.”

Whatever. Mike tears open the bag and helps himself to a generous handful of the little square crackers. Thank you Adam, for buying these. He should put the empty box back in Sisky’s bunk when he’s done, as a reminder to Sisky to buy more.

On the other couch, Bill sits up quickly. “Jon! Uh, it’s Bill. I was...” 

The crunch of the crackers in Mike’s mouth is too loud for Mike to make out most of what Jon’s saying. Jon’s always had a soft voice, which makes it harder. Not that Mike really wants to know. 

“What?” Bill shouts. “Why are you sorry? What happened?”

Mike swallows the food and waits a moment.

“—didn’t think he would actually, y’know, _leave_ the cabin. Like, he was about to set fire to his guitar and I thought it would help everyone calm down after, uh. But it just made him moody and he left when we weren’t paying attention.”

Bill’s pressing his fingers to his forehead. “And?”

“Please don’t tell Pete.”

“What. Happened.” Bill says through gritted teeth.

Oh. This is interesting. Mike holds onto the box but waits in eager anticipation to hear what Jon says next. 

“He, um. Spencer saw him about an hour ago. He was, uh, wolfy. And he ran off when we tried to call him inside. Shane thinks we should call the police.”

“Do _not_ call the police,” Bill snaps. He looks up at Mike. “Mike, how…”

“Shit! Brendon just saw— Spencer! Get the chee—” Jon’s voice is breaking up. Ah, shitty reception. “Call y—”

Bill slowly lowers the phone, his face a mask of concern. Almost like a mom. Mike chuckles. “Ryan’ll get hungry eventually. Either he’ll try to chase down animals in the woods or he’ll have enough human reason in him to remember that people keep food in refrigerators.” Mike stands up and takes the Cheez-Its box with him. “That was fun. Thanks, Bill.”


	10. Bill Beckett

_Everyone has their initial impressions of Michael Guy Chislett. Adam, Butcher, and Mike are all wary of him at first, although Bill later learns it’s because, by some fucking miracle, Michael is another werewolf. Incredible._

_Bill… can’t help but compare him to Tom at first._

_After a few days of working with Michael, Bill catches everyone in the band interacting positively with him. Adam and Michael leave together one evening so they can get to know each other better and come back the next day with matching small smiles. Mike and Andy stay in the practice room with Michael after everyone has left, covering some of their favorite songs. No more yellow-eyed glares and dents in cinderblock walls._

_Bill does his best to think of Michael as a new band member, rather than Tom’s replacement. If all goes well, Michael will be better than Tom; he’ll be a better fit with the band. He’s already finding his place as their friend. Day by day, he’s also becoming part of their sound, their music. Their band._

_Right now, the band is breaking for lunch before they go back to recording. Butcher’s been on a fucking roll all morning and Bill can tell he’s eager to get back in the studio once they’re done._

_Butch is on his phone talking with someone, hovering near the table where the band is gathered to eat lunch. There’s a large bag of subs wrapped in paper in the center of the table. Well, not exactly in the center anymore. Mike grabbed the bag as soon as it was delivered._

_Mike the first sandwich out of the bag and makes a nauseated face. “What the fuck is on this? It smells disgusting.”_

_Butcher closes his eyes and leans back. “Stone ground mustard, pickles, olives, salami, pepperoni, bologna…” Bill blinks at Butcher in confusion._

_“Mine,” Butch mutters. He strides over and takes the sandwich out of Mike’s hand. That must have been the only thing keeping him in the break room with them, because he leaves a moment later, letting the door close gently behind him._

_“Hey. Butcher, how did you—” Bill says._

_Adam cuts him off. “Werewolf, Bill. Butcher’s awesome at ID-ing food smells.”_

_Mike takes another sandwich out of the bag. Bill looks at Butcher expectantly. But Michael’s the one who speaks next._

_“Hummus and roasted peppers and squash on flatbread. Feta. Caramelized onions too.”_

_Butcher grins. “That one’s mine.” He reaches across the table to take the sandwich from Mike._

_Another sandwich. Everyone except Mike and Bill says in unison, “Meatball.”_

_“That one’s easy,” Adam says. “It’s hot and the smell is stronger.”_

_Bill can sort of smell meatballs and melted cheese. He wonders how strong that must be for a wolf. Or someone with wolf senses. However that works._

_Mike puts the meatball sandwich down on the table and hands the bag over to Bill before unwrapping his lunch. Bill glances down into the bag. None of the sandwiches are labeled. He picks one of the three remaining out. It’s pretty warm, so Bill guesses it was probably toasted._

_“Grilled portobello,” Michael says, a split second before Butcher can. The two exchange grins. Michael takes the sandwich from Bill._

_“It’s also got more of those caramelized onions. And local honey glazed on the bread,” Butcher says._

_“There’s no way you can tell that,” Bill protests._

_Michael unwraps the sandwich. Okay, yeah, it’s obviously vegetarian. He watches as Michael pinches off the end of the bun. He hands it across the table to Bill, who tastes it. Well. It’s honey, but he can’t see how anyone would be able to tell local honey from any other honey._

_“I didn’t realize it was local,” Michael says._

_Butcher shrugs. “The honey smells like the wildflowers near here.”_

_“We also went to that restaurant a week ago and they were selling jars of local honey,” Adam says. “Sorry, Butcher.”_

_“Ha!” Bill exclaims._

_Adam reaches into the bag and grabs the next to last sandwich. “This one’s mine. BLT with extra B plus avocado.” He smirks at Michael and Butcher. “See, I can do it too.”_

_Across the table, Mike sets down his sandwich, which is already half finished. “And Bill’s got tuna salad, avocados, and tomatoes on his. Whole grain bread.”_

_Bill takes the last sandwich out of the bag. “What is it like for you guys in a food court?”_

_“Distracting,” Mike admits._

……

Time feels like it passes faster and faster every day.

Performing, traveling, meeting fans, signing CDs, recording TAI TV in their spare time, and interviews. God, the interviews. 

Although The Academy Is… isn’t the headliner, it still feels like they’re doing more interviews than ever before. Local radio stations, newspapers, college radio, video bloggers, online news reporters. And each interviewer wants to ask the same questions, which makes them all blur together. How’s the tour? What’s it like performing with the other artists? What are the crowds like? What’s been the most exciting moment so far? What is your inspiration?

Occasionally they get a unique question, like ‘tell us about this line in this song’ or ‘who’s the most likely to keep the bus waiting’. Michael and Mike have both taken to writing down the more interesting questions on a sheet of paper that’s taped up in the bus lounge.

Bill and Michael are finishing a radio interview with a local station in Camden. Their interviewer is another one of the ones who probably got a crash course on who they are about twenty minutes before the interview.

It’s a relief when he says, “And let’s wrap up with a question submitted by one of our listeners. Tom from Cherry Hill asks: Do you guys become better friends while you’re on tour, or do you get annoyed being stuck together for months?”

What an easy question. “I think being on tour really brings us together,” Bill says. “Spending so much time with, you know, with these guys means, uh, it makes these guys, like, our closest friends. Or, you know, family.”

“Yeah,” Michael says, a little softly. Bill waits for him to say something else. 

He doesn’t. 

The interviewer barely notices. He’s already finishing up the interview by introducing and playing Neighbors. 

“Hey, thanks for coming today,” the guy says, standing up from his seat and reaching out to shake Bill and Michael’s hands. 

“Thanks for having us,” Michael says.

“It was our pleasure,” Bill adds.

They’re ushered out by Tony and hurried back to the car so they can return to the venue in time. Bill barely has his seatbelt on before he gets a call from Gabe. Bill shifts to the edge of the middle bench seat so he can hear Gabe’s voice better.

“Ayy Bill! I heard your interview on the radio here.”

Bill’s lips curl into a smile. Gabe was listening. That’s nice. He’s being supportive. It doesn’t have to mean much. They’re still at the stage of ‘friends in different bands who hang out together and enjoy being away from the rest of said bands and who also occasionally fuck’. Maybe more than occasionally. Not important.

“Thanks,” Bill says. 

“Listen, I have something I want to show you later,” Gabe continues.

Bill scoffs. “Is that ‘something’ your—”

“No!” Gabe interrupts. Thank god he did, otherwise Michael would have to listen to some supremely awkward phone foreplay. “Unless you want that too…” 

What the fuck, Gabe? “This is not a good time or place for this kind of—”

“No, I know, babe. But it’s not—you know. It’s a surprise.”

That’s a term that Gabe has used to describe his dick. Only once though, because soon after that happened, Bill made it absolutely clear that he wasn’t amused by Gabe’s ridiculous nicknames for his junk. 

Bill sighs and leans back against the headrest. “What kind of surprise?”

“A nice surprise. You’re not getting any hints other than that.”

“How long is this going to take?” Bill asks. Maybe he can get it over and done with before their set tonight.

“A couple hours—”

“What?!” Bill shouts, sitting up straighter. “Do you realize—”

“—it’s worth it, I promise! Just meet me at my bus once you’re done. Or I can meet you once you’re offstage if you want.” 

“...fine.” It’s not like spending a couple hours before bus call with Gabe is going to kill him. He’s been spending some time almost every day with Gabe since… well. It’s worth it. And he doesn’t have much to do in that time anyway. 

“Great!” Gabe says merrily. “See you soon!”

“Yeah, you too.”

Gabe ends the call with a goofy kissy noise. Bill can’t imagine how Gabe thinks that’s cute. It’s embarrassing, although the more embarrassing thing is how Bill’s face is turning red because of it. Think of something else, something to distract him, something to hold his attention...

“How’s Gabe?” Michael asks. Bill almost forgot he was in the car too; he and Tony have been so quiet, although Tony’s muttering softly to himself about the ‘unbelievable’ traffic.

“He’s being, you know. Gabe.”

“Making plans with him for tonight?” Michael’s voice sounds a little off. Why? 

Bill chooses his words carefully. Michael’s probably just—Maybe confused? Maybe. Bill’s been doing a good job of keeping the thing with Gabe a secret, so “Yeah… Well. He’s got plans, I’m just tagging along. Not like there’s anything else going on after the show.”

Michael nods slowly. Then he turns away from Bill and looks out the window. After a brief moment, Bill turns and looks out his own window, watching the Camden scenery pass. 

When they return to the venue, Bill and Michael are shuffled around and shoved into the dressing room with a familiar urgency. Bill takes one look at the tension in everybody’s bodies and leaves the room to warm up down the hall. Tony frowns at him when he passes, so Bill doesn’t go far.

It feels like no time at all before they’re lining up at the side of the stage, waiting to go on. Clearly it wasn’t enough time to get the unusual amount of pre-show jitters out of his bandmates. Mike is stiff as a statue, Adam won’t stop fidgeting, Butcher won’t stop grabbing Adam to try to make him stop fidgeting, and Michael is pacing. 

Bill looks away from them. He has enough anxiety from his own head telling him all the ways that the show can go wrong. Usually his band is better…

It’s a relief when they emerge and take their places on the stage. Front and center, Bill brings the microphone to his lips and starts soft but intense. “My eyes can’t believe what they have seen…”

And it starts. His mind clicks into performance mode and his body quickly follows. The music fills his essence, charging him, and the words flow from his mouth. The crowd sings back, their faces bright with excitement. This is what Bill lives for. This is why he endures long hours on the road, uninteresting interviews, cramped spaces shared with too many unwashed guys, and insulting reviews.

For this feeling of performing with his friends onstage, and this musical connection with thousands of kids across the country, around the world.

But tonight...

Something doesn’t feel right. Bill crosses the stage to stand closer to Michael as they harmonize. The energy is there, the connection is there, but…

It doesn’t feel the same. Somehow.

Bill finishes The Phrase that Pays and allows himself the short break between the song’s ending and the intro to LAX to O’Hare to look around the stage. That tension from before is still present, in somewhat different forms. Adam looks like he’s already covered in sweat and he’s staring intensely at Mike, who is holding the neck of his guitar with an iron grip. Butcher is smiling, but he looks exhausted. Michael’s not making eye contact with Bill; instead, he’s remaining close to his mike stand. 

What on earth…?

But LAX to O’Hare is starting and the fans are screaming as they recognize it. Bill turns back to face the crowd. They’ve got a show to put on. So Bill puts his concern over this weird awkwardness at the back of his mind to focus on the performance. 

He’ll have to have a band meeting or something after the show.

Bill fixes his attention back on the audience and puts all his energy into the next few songs. It can still be a great show if he fills his expressions and movements with all the emotion from the songs. And it’s mostly working. Adam and Butcher both beam back at him when they catch his eyes across the stage. Michael keeps his gaze on his guitar, but he leans back against Bill when they sing together. Only Mike remains stubbornly fixated in his corner of the stage. 

Despite this progress, however, each time they break so that Bill can talk, that strange tense sensation returns. It’s really starting to worry him. 

At least the crowd doesn’t seem to have caught on. They’re still screaming back every word and cheering loudly with the conclusion of each song. So long as the majority of their attention is on Bill, they won’t notice whatever’s going on. 

The rest of the set seems to fly past. All too soon, Bill’s halfway done with Checkmarks. 

“Do you miss looking up from the floor at my face on a stage in a crowded room? Well it's not the same. I bet you're still a sucker for those famous faces.”

As he moves across the stage, Bill catches sight of Gabe at the corner of his eye. He spares a brief glance towards stage right and there he is, hidden behind the speakers. He’s grinning.

Right. His surprise for tonight...

But the song’s not over and _shit_ , what did he just sing?

Thankfully Michael and Butcher catch him with their backing vocals before he misses too many words. “Downtown, looking down, down, looking over the crowd, I hope you're out there, look at me now...”

Bill’s body feels hotter than usual finishing up Checkmarks. His voice feels more intense with the last chorus. Gabe’s gaze is burning into his back and he has to firmly remind himself to take more than five seconds to thank the crowd.

But after that, after he follows his band offstage, his hand finds Gabe’s immediately. And he lets Gabe lead him away to see his ‘surprise.’


	11. Vicky Asher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok this is the chapter with the weird vampire blood-drinking stuff. Warnings for blood and mouth horror. Also marijuana.

_“You’re not biting my neck.”_

_Gabe’s pacing back and forth across the bus aisle. Ryland, Suarez, Nate, Dan, and the rest of the crew are all sitting down or leaning against various places in the bus, all pretending to be occupied with something else, but Vicky knows better. They all want to see this too, even the ones who claim to be nervous at the sight of blood. They all share the sick fascination in this, the impossible supernatural._

_“Okay, okay, I know.” Gabe says. “Carotid artery. Bad if it’s hit. I know.”_

_“Not my arm or my shoulder either. I need to play keytar.”_

_Maybe Vicky’s turning this into more of a spectacle than it needs to be. Like. It’s just Gabe doing his vampire thing, which is apparently getting high on human blood. For partying. Because clearly that’s the best thing to do when you’re a supercharged vampire._

_Still, Vicky’s excited to see what happens. Which is why she’s volunteered her blood for the party they’ve planned for tonight._

_“Yeah, I would never—”_

_A smile spreads across Vicky’s face. She pulls her skirt up on her thigh a little and a couple of the guys’ eyes widen. So predictable._

_“You can take it from my leg if you want. Just don’t—”_

_“Bite too deep, yeah.”_

_Vicky taps her fingers on her thigh. “I trust you. Mostly.” Actually, she trusts that her femoral artery is deeper in her body than Gabe’s teeth can reach._

_Gabe nods and kneels down awkwardly in front of her. Vicky represses a chuckle. Easy to guess how stories about vampires became so sexualized. While Gabe looks a bit uncomfortable being this close to Vicky’s thighs, the rest of their audience is watching with eyes and mouths wide open._

_Vicky returns her attention to Gabe. He exhales slowly, warming a patch of Vicky’s skin. Then he starts to open his mouth._

_Gabe’s teeth usually look just the same as any person’s. Neither his incisors nor his canines are any sharper or pointier than anyone else’s. And they aren’t magically changing now. Instead, Vicky watches as two translucent fangs extend from the roof of Gabe’s mouth. They’re long and they stretch out farther as Gabe’s mouth continues to stretch open. His jaw drops lower and lower until there’s a soft popping sound. Dislocation, like a snake._

_Suddenly Gabe’s head is snapping forwards, and Vicky flinches. The sharp fangs embed into her leg. Gabe’s normal teeth press gently against her flesh, but the fangs pierce deeper by the second, slicing into her thigh. Blood trickles past Gabe’s lips, dripping down her leg._

_Vicky tenses when she sees Gabe swallow. God, this is so fucking surreal._

_He pulls away from Vicky after a few seconds. His fangs feel so weird coming out of her skin. Vicky grimaces at the sensation._

_She reaches down to cover the bite wound with her palm. It’s not bleeding too fast, so it’s probably not a very deep cut._

_“I promised. Not too much,” Gabe says, sitting back. Despite the blood smeared on his face, he looks more alive and energized than ever._

_Their audience is still silent, probably out of shock. She might as well break the ice now, since she’s going to need one of them to help wrap the bite. Vicky presses her hand harder against her thigh and smirks._

_“You’re not venomous, are you?”_

……

There’s a steady, pleased rumble coming from Butcher’s throat as Vicky scratches the spot between his ears. His eyes are shut and his head is heavy and warm in her lap.

“I don’t know why everyone seemed so freaked out about them acting up during the full moon,” Vicky murmurs. “They’re all pretty calm.” She looks up at the other wolves scattered around the front lounge.

It’s just barely enough space for the four band members, three techs, two managers, and four wolves, but nobody seems to mind the huge furry animals lying on top of them. Dan’s sitting next to Vicky, stroking the spot between Butcher’s shoulders. Across the aisle, Ryland and Alex have nearly lulled Michael to sleep by steadily petting his back. Nate, Tony, and Sisky are on the floor with the biggest rawhide stick Vicky’s ever seen while Mike and the techs are squashed near the front, watching muted cat videos on someone’s laptop. Mike isn’t actually paying attention to the videos, Vicky notes; it looks like he’s inching towards an open bag of tortilla chips that someone’s forgotten in a corner.

“Bill seems to think they’ll run off in a second if he’s not watching them,” Ryland says. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen them more peaceful.”

“Maybe it’s just him,” Alex says.

Vicky stops moving as an idea starts to come to mind. Maybe… If they just want a comfortable environment to relax and be wolves on the full moon… And if they’re just going to do the same stuff they did when they all went to the dog park together… Maybe… 

Butcher lifts his head up and stares at Vicky, then whines softly and butts his head against her chest. She starts petting him again and soon, the soft rumble comes back.

“It almost seems a shame to just be petting them in here,” Vicky muses.

“What else would we do?” Nate asks.

“Think for a moment,” Vicky says. “Tony, you said that whenever there’s a full moon, Bill usually keeps them on your bus. Or like, in a hotel room.”

“Yeah?” Tony says, his tone cautious. “It’s safest that way. If we’re watching them, then we make sure they don’t run off and get lost or something.”

“But they’re always so bored, cooped up in the bus,” Vicky says.“You have to agree they’re a handful sometimes, right?” 

Tony shrugs. “Sure.”

Vicky grins. She stops petting again and hugs Butcher’s head snugly against her chest. “Okay then. What if we keep watching them like Bill wants, but we let them run around outside for a bit? If we get everyone to help watch, then there’s no need to worry about them wandering off.”

“Everyone?” Tony echoes. “Like, tell everyone on tour? That’s not—”

“Uh…” Ryland coughs. “The only ones who don’t know right now are, like, Paul’s crew. Fall Out Boy’s guys all knew, we all found out, and I think Mark and Travis and them have dealt with werewolves before because. Um. They know.”

Tony’s eyes go wide. “Shit.”

“Look, there’s nothing you can really do about that now,” Ryland says quickly. “Except maybe, I don’t know, make sure they all know to keep it a secret?”

Tony groans and buries his face in his hands. 

Dan speaks up. “Look, Tony. I’ll help you talk with everyone and make sure they know this is serious.”

“This _is_ serious!”

Shit. This isn’t going where Vicky was hoping. She bites her lip and looks back down at Butcher. 

“Okay, listen,” Dan is saying, “It’s going to be fine. One, werewolves are insane and nobody will believe they’re real unless they see them for themselves. Two, we let Paul’s guys and +44’s guys see them, and they’ll either think they’re random trained animals or they’re actually your band. And they’ll know this is serious business. Especially after you and I explain. Three, everyone on this goddamn tour knows when they do and don’t take fucking photos. Fuck. Am I making sense?”

Tony is slowly nodding. “This is the worst thing that could ever happen to this band, but I see where you’re going.”

Now might be a good time to bring up her point again. Vicky says, “So everyone knows, showing them all will help them understand, and they can benefit from fresh air anyway. Win-win situation.” Although not really. More like containing the losses and trying for a small win.

Tony’s still frowning, but he seems a bit open to the idea. Maybe just open to any suggestions in this time of his despair, but still.

Vicky adds, “We were planning that cookout for tomorrow, but we can do it tonight.”

“I like that idea,” Ryland says. Michael lifts his head and starts to swish his tail back and forth on the seat.

Dan and Tony exchange glances. Dan is smiling, supportive. Tony sighs again. 

“Sure. Whatever. At least this is the worst that can happen.”

Success.

They can’t start the cookout right away, of course. First, they have to endure about half an hour of herding the wolves out of the bus, knocking on the other bands’ buses, and collecting most of the tour guys into a small crowd for a boring serious talk about the wolves. Followed by a very frazzled Tony answering or declining to answer questions. And Vicky, Ryland, Nate, and Alex shouting out answers that may or may not be entirely true. 

Then the fun starts.

Since most of the bands and their crews are already outside at the empty edge of the parking lot, it doesn’t take much more coordination to find food and fuel for the cookout. Two or three picnic tables appear while a couple tech guys clean off two outdoor park grills. Most of the space on the tables ends up filled by dozens of cases of beer, bottles of liquor, and packs of plastic cups and plates. Somewhere hidden among the alcohol are packages of buns for the food.

Alex and Mark Hoppus claim the grills. Now that most of the food and alcohol has been brought out, Vicky notices that the rest of the crowd seems content to either hover hungrily near the grills or wander around with a glass bottle or a plastic cup. It’s comical how quickly some of the guys start to get drunk, but Vicky guesses they’re either drinking way too fast or they’re just using the alcohol as an excuse to be wild. In some cases, it’s definitely the latter.

Vicky can smell weed and cigarette smoke over the delicious aromas coming from the grill. It’s harder to hear anything past the loud pulsing music that Pete and Paul are taking turns mixing, but there might be some wolf-barks in here somewhere. 

Or it’s just the bass.

No, it might be the wolves’ weird barks.

Vicky wanders, seeking out the source of the occasional barks with a solo cup in one hand and a veggie burger in the other. She soon comes across Joe Trohman and half of the tour’s techs sitting in a circle on the grass, surrounding Mike, Michael, Sisky, and Butcher. 

The guys are passing two bongs around their circle. Those not lighting up are petting the four wolves, who all look happy and relaxed. The barks that Vicky was hearing start up whenever two or more people are giving the wolves attention. Honestly, the whole thing looks absurd, but it’s such a peaceful and loving scene that Vicky covers her mouth to keep from laughing. Jesus. Vicky half expects someone to start singing.

Andy Hurley is at the edge of the stoner circle, sipping at a bottle of water. “Can wolves get high?” He’s probably asking Vicky since 1. the tour now thinks she’s an expert on werewolves and 2. she’s the only one sober enough to give a sane response. “Is that bad for them?”

Vicky shrugs. “They’re half human and humans can get high.”

“They’re so big,” one of +44’s techs says in wonder. He sighs in bliss and buries his face in Michael’s fur. “I wonder if you could ride them. Or like, get them to pull you on a skateboard.”

Joe and half his crowd laughs.

Vicky takes another bite of the veggie burger and thinks about that for a moment. “Hmm. They say they hate it when we try to put collars on them but… Maybe if it was one of those carts… and if it wasn’t restricting…”

Andy’s face lights up. “Could we actually do that? It would be so cool.”

Vicky squeezes her way into the circle. She kneels down next to Mike and hauls his head up so she could look him in the eyes. He looks mostly alert, although very, very relaxed.

“Hey Mike—” she starts.

“Who’s faster, you or Chislett?” A tech interrupts. More laughter.

Mike blinks and rises to his feet. There’s a few complaints from the circle. He looks at Michael and shakes his head and haunches.

Michael jumps to his feet too. He barks at Mike. Mike shoves at Michael. Sisky and Butcher get up but only to walk closer to the people and lie down again.

Vicky stands up. Mike and Michael watch her, then go back to shoving at each other.

“You boys wanna race?”

It’s significantly harder to track down a pair of carts and some rope, especially with about half the crews drunk and almost all of the other half high. But word that there might be a wolf race starts to spread through the gathered crowd nonetheless. The mood shifts, the music changes, and attention goes from the alcohol and food to, well, the alcohol, food, and wolves.

It doesn’t take nearly as much time as it took to gather everyone for the cookout, though. All they really have to do is move stand beside the makeshift race track that’s coming into existence along the length of the parking lot. Someone at the far end of the track puts down a visible line with yellow electrical tape. That should be long enough for two wolves to race. Maybe. They might have to run to the end and come back. 

While thinking of how to best organize the races—not to mention the passengers—Vicky occupies herself by watching the wolves. Dirty gets to work constructing a simple harness made out of braided cables for each of the carts. Tony and Nate do their best to keep Butcher and Chislett from wandering by petting them where they’re lying down on the asphalt. 

Meanwhile, Mike has grown tired of waiting and is either play-fighting or actually-fighting with Sisky. Probably just playing, since Sisky is the only one growling. The two are rolling around in the grass next to the edge of the parking lot.

Vicky figures that, no matter what’s happening between Mike and Sisky, it will still be a bad idea to try and pry them apart. Too many teeth and claws. So she bends down and scratches Chislett’s ears. “Hey. You know what’s going on? You wanna do this?”

Michael stands up, stretches, and nods at Vicky before pacing over to one of the carts. Butcher gets up a moment later and walks to the other cart. Dan comes over to ease Michael into his chosen cart’s harness, while Dirty fits the other one around Butcher’s torso. 

The spectators’ chatter dies down enough to pick out bits of conversations. Vicky looks back at the crowd and can see some people passing money around. 

She also hears Andy saying, “Someone should get some water for them. Y’know, if they’re going to be running and—”

Nate, “Do we actually get to ride on those things?”

One of the merch guys, “I’m only riding on Butcher’s. He seems like the safest.”

Pete, “I’m betting a hundred dollars that Carden’s the fastest.”

Travis, “Whoa, what the fuck…”

Vicky tries to shout above all the clamor. “I think, to make things fair, whoever’s riding on those things have to be, sorta like, equal weight or... Um.” Some of the people in the crowd are nodding, so she assumes she’s gotten through to at least a few people. No doubt it’ll all turn to chaos soon. Whatever, it’ll still be fun.

She looks back at the wolves wearing the harnesses. “Hey. Butcher, Chislett, uh—” they both look at her expectantly— “you, um, you run down to where that tape is, turn around, and run back here. Does that sound good?” They nod. Well, at least the ones who need to hear the ‘rules’ most are paying attention. 

Vicky pushes past a sizeable group of guys who are arguing over who should ride first and climbs onto the cart behind Butcher. Dirty gets on behind Chislett.

Four different people start a countdown from ten at slightly different times. With each number, they attempt to sync themselves as the rest of the crowd catches on and joins in.

“Four.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

“One.”

“GO!” The crowd shouts almost in unison. There’s a sharp jolt as Butcher starts running. Vicky clings tightly to the sides of the cart. She hunches low. Every bump on the asphalt and every leap of Butcher’s strides threatens to throw her from the cart. 

Vicky breaks into a wild laugh. Her eyes are fixed on the wolf pulling the cart. Butcher’s gray-golden-brown fur ripples from his fast pace. The wind whips her hair away from her face. All she can hear is the loud roar of the cart being hauled across asphalt. 

The far end of the race track arrives sooner than Vicky expects. She squeals with glee as she’s thrown against the side of the cart. 

Vicky glances to her side after the apex of the turn. Chislett’s only just started his turn. Unlike Butcher, who slowed down before turning, Michael is taking his way too fast. As they pass out of her direct line of sight, Vicky hears Dirty screaming in horror. 

“Yes!” Vicky shouts. “You’ve got this, Butcher!”

It feels like Butcher’s running even faster on the way back. Vicky tightens her grip on the edge of the cart. They pass the cheering bystanders. Pass the guys clenching handfuls of dollar bills.

Butcher speeds across the finish line. He brings the cart to a less-than-steady stop and turns back to return to the start. The audience is loud again, cheering and arguing amongst themselves and shoving each other around while approaching the two carts. Vicky gets up off her cart, shaking. 

“Whoa,” she says.

However, before she reach Butcher to take the harness off, Mike leaps into her way and slams a paw against the cart. He makes a short, aborted howl directed at Vicky. Alex shows up behind Mike. He’s trying not to smile as much as Vicky knows he probably wants to.

“My turn?”

Mike’s tail swishes back and forth eagerly.


	12. Bill Beckett

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a fraction of a sex scene.

_Bill doesn’t often consider bringing any sort of bondage crap into his sex life. It requires too much preparation and cleanup. Admitting the kind of stuff he’d be into feels like revealing way too much. And, well. The only person he would have ever felt comfortable doing that with… left. More accurately, he got kicked out of the band. Good fucking riddance._

_But Gabe. Fuck. He talks so much during sex that Bill frequently entertains the idea of just taping his fucking mouth shut. The only reason he hasn’t caved in and done it already is he would have to give up on Gabe’s kisses. And the way that Gabe sucks his cock after fucking a long and satisfying orgasm out of Bill._

_Those things are too good to give up._

_Bill sighs, lowering himself roughly onto Gabe’s cock again. He loves this, not worrying about time so that he can bring himself and Gabe to one intense orgasm after another. And they’ve got the whole bus to themselves._

_Gabe rocks his hips up, thrusting his cock into Bill at the angle he loves—that Gabe **knows** Bill loves. Just close enough to tease, to force Bill to bend his back into an arch, so the pressure and pleasure makes Bill’s thighs tremble and Gabe’s fingers dig tighter into Bill’s ass._

_God, Bill couldn’t have picked a better fuckbuddy. Gabe is so big and fills him up so well. All he has to think about when he’s fucking Gabe is how to get more of his cock inside his ass. Or his mouth (without damaging his voice—that was almost a problem the first time). Also how to shut Gabe up with long sloppy kisses._

_Gabe is babbling beneath him. “God, Bilvy, I love—ahh… you’re always so—mm—”_

_Bill trails his fingertips along Gabe’s chest, collecting beads of sweat. He brings them to Gabe’s lips while grinding his hips down harder, driving Gabe’s cock against his prostate. So fucking good._

_Gabe’s mouth is wide open in a long moan. Perfect. Bill pushes two of his fingers past Gabe’s lips and thrust against his tongue. Gabe’s eyes snap open and his mouth instantly closes around Bill’s fingers. He hollows his cheeks and sucks the same way he sucks Bill’s cock. This isn’t something that Bill usually gets off on, but that look in Gabe’s eyes… dark and lustful and desperate to make Bill come._

_Bill’s cock is throbbing painfully at that look. At the reminder that it gives him. He stops moving on Gabe’s cock and pants for a few seconds. God, he’s shaking so much._

_He pulls his fingers out of Gabe’s mouth. Gabe chases after them with his tongue and fuck, that’s **another** sight that ignites tension and heat and—_

_“Give me four,” Gabe breathes, echoing the same words Bill said barely half an hour ago—_

……

“The music isn’t as loud as it was before,” Gabe says. He’s lounging on the far end of the lounge couch, still naked but at least no longer covered in come. He’s got a few light bruises on his hips from both their activities a few moments ago and the fun they had last night. And there are some scratches along his sides and… And Bill should stop staring at him before they end up fucking again. Not that he has a problem with that, but he was the one who asked for a break.

Because he needs to sort out his head a bit. Or. Or something. 

Gabe’s peeking out through the bus windows now. Bill sighs and lifts himself off the couch. His body’s starting to ache, so he might as well do something during this break besides ogling Gabe’s cock. Gabe sits up straighter and Bill notices him watching his movements.

“You still want to see what everyone else is doing?” Bill asks, turning to kick through the pile of clothes they shed and threw on the floor. What a mess. “I thought this would be the best chance to actually spend more than an hour together.”

Gabe chuckles. “Bilvy, in case you haven’t been keeping track of time, we actually _have_ been spending more than an hour together. Many, many times this summer.”

Bill frowns. Many times? No, it can’t be that much… When did this start happening? 

“Really?”

“Between sleeping and performing and recording those episodes for your web series, I think you’ve been spending more time in my bus than your bus.” 

Now that Gabe points it out, Bill can see he has a point. Still… it can’t have been that long since he’s spent an afternoon with Mike or Adam, at the very least. Like. Well. There was the time he spent with Michael yesterday before and after the interview… And Mike. Hm. He’s pretty sure they had at least an hour before the show a day or two ago. Probably.

Bill tries to recall his actions of the past week, but that’s kind of hard when Gabe’s walking across the lounge and bending down to pick his phone off the floor. 

“Hm,” Gabe murmurs.

“What’s going on?” Bill is trying to listen for the music that was so loud earlier, but either the guys outside have turned it down or they’ve stopped it altogether. It sounds like there’s still something happening out there, because he can just barely pick up the sound of voices.

“Nobody’s sent me anything about it.” Gabe says. “Wanna ignore it and fuck some more? Or…?”

Bill bites his lip and glances away before Gabe makes eye contact. He really doesn’t feel like it anymore, but he knows if he looks at Gabe again, he’s going to end up saying yes. 

And now that he’s dismissed the sounds from outside, he’s thinking about what Gabe said. About how… his comment about the time he’s been spending… no, the time that he _hasn’t_ been spending with his band… 

Bill can’t remember the last time he sat down with Mike to discuss the lyrics that he actually has been writing. Adam and Andy always seem to arrive at the dressing room together, but Bill doesn’t think that he’s really asked what they do in their sparse amount of free time. And Chislett, god. He probably feels so unwelcome from the lack of group bonding. Sure, they had the weeks after Santi’s release, but…

Gabe seems to have taken Bill’s silence as an answer. He’s crouching down again to pick up his clothes and put them back on, while trying to type out a message on his phone at the same time. 

Bill determinedly avoids looking at Gabe as he picks up his own clothes from the floor and starts dressing himself. 

“Shit…” Gabe suddenly says. “Was the cookout supposed to be today? Are we missing that?”

Bill stops halfway through pulling his pants back on. “Uh… I don’t, no I don’t think so.”

Gabe’s moving faster, almost done with his clothes. Bill tries to do the same, but his jeans are hard to pull on. “Shit, shit. We have those Kosher veggie burgers that are the fucking shit and they might all be gone. Come on!” He dashes outside, clearly no longer caring that he looks like he just had a lot of sex. Bill pats his hair down a few times after pulling his shirt over his head and then follows.

The sounds that they’ve been hearing are much more audible once Bill’s outside. Gabe is waiting for him, bouncing on his toes. Together, they walk in the direction of the noise. There isn’t any music anymore. The noise sounds like a drunk party, with people shouting and… cheering?

It’s getting louder as Bill and Gabe walk past Fall Out Boy’s trailer. 

They round the corner.

Bill promptly stops moving and starts struggling to take in the scene of horror before him.

Everyone on tour—and yes, that’s _everyone_ —is gathered around an open area at the edge of the parking lot. Adam, Mike, Butcher, and Michael are all in wolf form and what the fuck, _what the fuck_ when did _everyone on tour_ learn their secret? They’re—Jesus Christ, everyone is watching them and calling their names. And. _Racing_ each other while pulling people on battered equipment carts. What. The. Fuck.

This is so bad.

That is such a fucking understatement.

Bill breaks away from Gabe and runs towards the mess. He pushes past a line of people right as the cheering has reached a new high. He finds his band quickly, surrounding the two equipment carts and yipping. 

“Alright,” someone—Bill could care less who—says. “So Butcher’s faster than—”

“ _WHAT ARE YOU DOING?_ ” Bill yells. His voice isn’t loud enough to reach all of the people gathered, but it’s enough to catch the attention of the ones who matter most right now. 

His band.

They’re frozen, yellow eyes wide and staring back at him. The people gathered around them quickly notice the change in atmosphere and fall silent. 

But, before Bill can start demanding an explanation, or start berating his band for exposing themselves like this, they run. 

All of them. 

They turn and bolt away from Bill, through the crowd, out of the parking lot. 

And.

It takes a split second for Bill’s anger to suddenly turn into panic. 

Oh no.

“Stop!” Bill shouts, and he starts running, even though the tiny logical voice in the back of his mind says that wolves will always outrun humans. He’s far too late. Only Adam pauses just past the edge of the parking lot, but he quickly dashes away and follows after Butcher. 

“Fuck!” Bill screams. He spins around. “Someone,” he says through gritted teeth. “Get a car.” Cars can outrun wolves, he knows. Most of the people are standing still, shocked. They’ve all stopped talking but they’re still all useless _and_ getting on Bill’s nerves. 

But Gabe moves. He marches over to Dan, who was in the crowd that was directly surrounding the wolves when Bill arrived. “Please, we’ve got to hurry,” Gabe says. 

Dan nods and takes off running towards the cars. Bill and Gabe follow after him. Fuck all these assholes who aren’t doing anything.

“What the hell were they _doing_?” Bill shouts at Dan’s back. Dan doesn’t answer, but at least he unlocks the doors of the van as they approach it. Speed is important now. Every second is a second that the wolves get farther and farther away. 

Dan’s already jumping into the van and firing the engine when Bill makes it to the front passenger seat. Gabe barely is able to climb into the back before Dan’s throwing the van into Drive. Their wheels screech and Bill grabs the seatbelt hanging beside him. A moment later he remembers, seatbelt, yeah, those go on his body to keep him from flying out the windshield. 

But at least they’re off, heading in the direction the wolves were running. Bill presses his face to the glass. No, it’s a better idea to just roll down the window. He can shout their names and hope they’ll answer back with their distinctive howls.

In his back pocket, Bill’s phone buzzes. Fucking thing. He grabs it and throws it into the back at Gabe. He doesn’t have time for a damn phone call.

“Hello?” Gabe answers.

“What the hell were they doing?” Bill asks again, glaring at Dan while punching his finger against the window button until it’s down. Wind blows noisily into the van and throws long locks of Bill’s hair into his face, but he doesn’t flinch.

“Tony said it’d be good to let them outside,” Dan says. 

Bill’s eyes widen. “What, and have the whole tour see them?”

Dan is silent for a long moment. Bill really wants to keep yelling at him, but he needs to yell something else too. He sticks his head out the window as they approach some train tracks. 

“Adam!” Bill shouts, as loud as he can. “Mike! Andy! Michael!”

Bill almost doesn’t hear the next thing Dan says. Almost.

“The whole tour’s known for a while now.”

Bill whips his head back into the van and gapes at Dan. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Everyone knows and this is not a new thing? Fuck, fuck, this is so much worse than last year. Not that it can be taken back now. But shit, things have really gone wrong. It was bad enough when Cobra Starship found out, but now Bill has to worry about _every goddamn person on the tour_? How is he supposed to trust that they can all keep their mouths shut?

Dan glances at Bill. “Hey, Tony already talked about it with everyone. It’s been handled.”

Like hell it’s been handled! What about girlfriends, wives, children? Some people may never gossip about shit like this, but they turn around and tell their families or closest friends. They have to have the shit scared out of them before they understand how serious this secret is. Like Bill and Tony did with the crew.

“Hey, uh, Bill—” Gabe says. Bill whirls around and narrows his eyes. 

“What,” he spits.

“Tony says they’re on the phone with Animal Control. To, uh, report runaway dogs who aren’t wearing their collars.”

Dread builds in Bill’s chest. “No…”

Gabe looks confused. “Wait, why not?”

“Give me the phone,” Bill reaches back for it and Gabe gives it up without question. Bill presses it to his ear with a shaky hand. How is everything going from Bad to Worse to Worse times a thousand? “Tony! Listen, if Animal Control gets a hold of them, they’re going to figure out pretty soon that they’re not dogs! They’re animal experts!”

“...fuck.”

Bill squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. This has got to be some kind of nightmare. 

“Please tell me it’s not too late.” Please. Please. Please.

“It’s not too late if we find them before Animal Control does,” Tony says in a defeated tone that spreads the phantom feeling of ice through his body.


	13. Gabe Saporta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for graphic body horror and sex. Body horror = multiple werewolf shifts and all the sights and sounds that come with shifting.

_El frío._

_Gabe’s earliest memory is one of being cold. In moments of silence and solitude, it lingers at the back of his mind. A chill that crawls across his skin and pries into his heart. A strange emptiness that haunts his thoughts when there is nothing else to fill them._

_He can chase that cold memory away with the heat of performing. Bright, burning spotlights. A thousand people singing back his lyrics. A hot American summer crammed with alcohol and watermelon and people… So many people. And Bill—_

_There is nobody like Bill._

_Bill pushes the cold away better than anyone._

_Better than anything else in the world._

_Even better than drinking his fill of human blood and letting his body burn like a fire._

……

Dan speeds around another corner, throwing Gabe hard into Bill’s seat and Bill hard against the side of the van.

Gabe glances worriedly at Bill. He’s shouting for his bandmates while dangling his upper body out the front passenger window and clinging precariously to the inside of the car. Gabe’s kneeling between the two front seats and watching the scene through the front window, keeping his eyes peeled for the wolves. 

They haven’t seen any of them since they fled the parking lot and it’s getting darker every minute. 

Dan turned the van’s headlights on about five minutes after they started their search. The lights weren’t quite necessary then, but if they can’t find Bill’s band in the next ten minutes, they’re going to be their only tool. Pretty soon, they’re going to be running around this unfamiliar city in the dark. 

“Hey, Bill,” Gabe says, an idea occurring to him. “Do their eyes do that glowy thing when light hits them?”

Bill probably doesn’t hear, since he’s shouting, “ADAM! ANDY!”

“I think so,” Dan says. He slows down for an intersection, then speeds through before any other cars approach. “I don’t remember what it’s called—”

Bill tumbles back inside. “They were definitely headed towards the railroad tracks, right?”

Gabe nods. It’s kind of hard to ignore the way windswept hair and flushed cheeks accent Bill’s beautifully sharp facial features. And collarbones, hot damn. Situations like this force Gabe to focus on the important things, but fuck, he can still at least admire the guy, right? 

“Yeah,” Gabe answers, “They were all going in that direction when they left.”

“But they should have enough sense to avoid spending too much time near people so—”

“Hold on!” Dan calls and brings them around another corner. It feels like at least one of the van’s wheels lose traction with the road. Gabe winces and looks up at Bill again to make sure he hasn’t fallen out yet. Then he sees something through the front window. 

Gabe surges up onto his knees and points. “Look!” 

One of the wolves—well, the dark brown patches on the back means it’s probably Mike, since Gabe doubts there are many wild wolves in Connecticut—is standing on a street corner a block away. Bill shoves half his body back out the window and starts yelling Mike’s name.

By some miracle, Mike doesn’t move as they pull up to him. He actually sits down on the cement sidewalk. Bill jumps out of the van and grabs Mike’s head. 

“What the _fuck_ do you think you were doing?” Bill shouts. “Where are the others?” 

Mike tilts his head to the side and pants. It’s actually a cute sight, and Gabe presses a fist to his mouth to cover up his snicker. Bill, meanwhile, slaps a palm against his forehead and groans. Gabe would love to step out of the van and pat Bill’s back in assurance, but. That wouldn’t be appreciated. Bill’s not ready for that yet.

Yet.

“Just, get in the van,” Bill’s saying, “We don’t have time for this shit, Mike. If we don’t find Adam, Andy, and Michael soon, then Animal Control’s going to get them.”

Mike stands up quickly at that. He pulls out of Bill’s grip and growls. Then he shoves past Bill and jumps into the van, knocking Gabe to the side in the process. Wow, that guy is really strong when he’s a wolf. Gabe scoots away from him. 

Mike raises a paw up to push on Dan’s arm. He bares his teeth, but only for a second. Gabe has no idea what that’s supposed to mean. He should really have read up on wolf body language when Ryland and Vicky were passing around that animal magazine article a few weeks back. 

But his thoughts on that are derailed when Bill climbs in after Mike and shuts the door. Bill leaves the window open, which is letting more humid summer air into the van. “Mike, this would be more helpful if you changed back—”

Mike cuts Bill off with a harsh wolf bark, and Bill glares back.

Shit. That is a setup for a fight that Gabe wants absolutely no part of. Quiet and smooth, he moves to the back seat of the van. The added space is not much protection, but he still feels a bit safer.

“Mike, I’m not—” Bill starts, angry, but he’s cut off by a long snarl this time.

Mike bats at Dan’s arm again. He points his head at Dan’s window and barks. 

“Okay, so… left?” Dan says, hesitant. Mike slams both of his front paws on the floor of the van. His lips pull away from his teeth and he bares them at Dan, then Bill, snarling all the while. 

Gabe’s heart is pounding and his mind is spinning from that, but he manages to shout, “Go!”

Dan doesn’t need any more encouragement. He quickly takes the van out of Park and drives around the corner, narrowly avoiding an oncoming minivan that honks at them. 

From the back of the van, it’s easy to see what Mike’s doing. He’s directing Dan by pushing or pulling on his arm. Dan picks up on it pretty quickly, although he starts to ignore regular traffic laws. Not that Gabe would really blame him for it. Mike’s way of saying ‘go right’ involves grabbing Dan’s arm with his mouth. Gabe doesn’t think he’s punctured Dan’s skin since Dan isn’t screaming or bleeding yet, but that doesn’t mean it’s not terrifying having a wolf bite a guy’s arm.

“Dan! Red light!” Gabe yells and Dan slams his foot on the brake. “Sorry,” he says through gritted teeth. 

Gabe moves back to the front to sit behind Mike. As he does so, however, the whole van falls silent while a white van passes through the intersection. Animal Control. Bill and Gabe exchange worried looks. 

“...should I follow that?” Dan asks.

“No.” Bill says. “Mike, you know where they are, right?”

Mike puts his mouth around Dan’s arm. Turn right. The opposite of where the van was headed. 

The light changes and Dan turns. And Mike promptly jumps onto Bill’s lap and leaps out the window that Bill left open. 

Dan pulls over to the side of the road, Bill tries to open his door while the van is still moving, and Gabe has to reach out to hold Bill back.

“Mike!”

Three wolfy barks answer Bill. Gabe breath catches in his chest. “That’s—”

“Adam and Butcher,” Bill says shakily. He opens the door and stumbles out of the van. Gabe follows.

The three wolves are all standing in very defensive positions on the sidewalk. Butcher and Sisky are side by side, growling at Mike. Mike isn’t making a sound, but his back is raised and his teeth are bared. Shit. Seeing them like that, Gabe has to wonder how much human reason is still in their heads. 

Bill is standing next to Mike, but he’s not moving any closer to Sisky and Butcher. Butcher takes a half step toward Mike, whose ears flatten against his skull for a moment. Then Sisky’s posture relaxes. Gabe keeps watching, amazed and confused at their behavior.

Adam nudges his head against Butcher’s shoulder. Butcher relaxes. Mike relaxes. Bill steps forward. 

What the fuck is going on? It looks like something that Gabe shouldn’t be watching. He feels like an invader, seeing this kind of… intimacy between friends.

“Guys, we need to find Michael. Animal Control’s looking for him. Can you—”

Without warning, Sisky springs towards Gabe. No, not him. Towards the van. The force of Adam’s jump pushes Gabe to the side. Once he’s picked himself up off the sidewalk, he looks back at the van. 

Sisky has crawled into the backseat. His head is thrown back and—oh fuck, that’s horrifying. Gabe quickly turns back around, but it’s kind of impossible to ignore the sound of bones popping and Sisky’s growls turning less animalistic but no less pained. Gabe grimaces and gets farther away from the van. Dan seems to have the same idea, since he’s joined Butcher, Mike, Bill, and Gabe on the sidewalk.

About a minute passes, the noises die down, and then Sisky sticks his head and bare shoulders out the window of the van. His eyes are still yellow. Weird. 

“Chislett’s heading back to the buses,” Sisky says. 

Bill breathes a sigh of relief beside Gabe. “I’ll call Tony.” He looks down to address the two wolves still on the sidewalk. “Come on, we’ve got to go!”

Everyone piles back into the van and once again, Dan takes off. He makes a sharp U-turn that has Gabe accidentally sliding into Mike. The wolf just growls softly and shoves him away. Meanwhile, in the backseat, Butcher is going through the same transformation as Sisky, complete with the body horror noises from hell. Fuck, that’s going to haunt Gabe’s dreams for a while. 

In front of Gabe, Bill twists around in his seat to look back. “Do you want to tell me why you guys ran off like that? Adam?”

Gabe sneaks a look back. Patches of golden gray fur are vanishing from Butcher’s face. The drummer’s mouth is hanging open as he pants, showing off sharp wolfy teeth. Sisky is curled around Butcher’s shifting body and stroking the gray-brown fur still covering his head. His eyes still haven’t changed back to their normal color.

Sisky shrugs and glances briefly at Bill. “The wolf told me to. I just—instinct.”

Bill groans in exasperation. “You guys are such a handful, I swear.”

And if Gabe wasn’t still watching Sisky’s face, mesmerized by the yellow glow of his eyes, he might have missed the hurt expression that flickers there momentarily. 

Gabe turns back around. 

“Weren’t you going to call Tony?” Dan asks, speeding through a yellow traffic light.

“Yeah—”

Mike suddenly jumps up puts his front paws on the dashboard. He snarls and barks, making Gabe flinch backward and Dan slam on the brakes in alarm. 

In the backseat, Sisky and Butcher gasp, “Michael!”

A split second later, Chislett’s blurred gray-brown form leaps in front of the van. The light from the van’s headlights catch his eyes for a fraction of a second before he’s pouncing again. Towards them. 

There’s a loud thud that shakes the whole van as Michael makes impact with the roof of the van.

Bill doesn’t waste time jumping out of the van again and shouting for Michael to come down. Gabe is about to follow after him, but Dan reaches out and grabs his arm.

“Wait—” Dan points at the road in front of them. At the far end of the block, a white van is driving towards them. One that they just saw minutes ago.

Animal Control.

“Fuck,” Gabe whispers. 

Mike barks and snarls again, pawing at the door that Bill shut. At the closed window. Bill must have closed it once they got Sisky and Butcher.

Gabe surges up and wraps his arms around Mike. Mike instantly twists in his grasp, flailing sharp clawed limbs and gnashing teeth. Shit, Gabe is gonna die. 

“Shut up, Mike!” Gabe hisses. Every second, that van is coming closer. “Turn into a human again!”

“He can’t,” Sisky says. Gabe jerks his head to the side and is honestly surprised to see Sisky back in the front. Mike is stilling in his arms. 

“What? Why?” Gabe says, glancing back at the road. The Animal Control van has stopped and someone’s stepping out of it. 

“Mike’s. European. Different wolf. He acts different during the full moon.” Sisky reaches out for Mike and buries his hand in the fur on Mike’s neck. Cautious, Gabe eases his grip on Mike. Mike twists away from Gabe and crawls onto Sisky’s lap. 

And.

Then they’re kissing. 

Gabe feels his jaw drop and his eyes open wide. Sisky is kissing the side of Mike’s muzzle. He’s grasping at the fur along Mike’s back, moaning while pulling roughly. Mike’s paws press into Sisky’s bare shoulders, hard enough to draw long red scratches along his pale skin. Mike is licking Sisky’s face and growling. 

The growl is nothing like any of the sounds he’s made thus far tonight. It’s fierce but possessive, and it stirs something in Gabe. 

A shudder goes down Mike’s back and he leans his head back, teeth bared. Sisky takes that moment as an opportunity to kiss and bite at Mike’s throat. 

That bone-snapping sound starts again. But this time, Gabe can’t tear his gaze away. Mike’s tail, swishing back and forth in agitation, starts shrinking first. Sisky’s arms wind around Mike, letting the larger wolf fall onto Sisky’s chest and pin him to the floor of the van. 

The joints in Mike’s four legs suddenly pop out the wrong way. They realign themselves in seconds, starting to take the form of human arms and legs. His claws become nails. His fur seems to retract into his skin, black and brown and white hairs giving way to naked human flesh.

And Sisky is pushing on Mike, reversing their positions to pin Mike to the ground and crawling on top of him. He’s grinding down onto Mike’s—thank fuck it’s a human cock now and not a wolf’s—and biting harder at Mike’s neck, leaving pink imprints of too-sharp teeth that heal in seconds. 

Besides the lingering patches of black and brown fur and the pointed nails, Mike’s face is the last thing to finish morphing back. But even before his nose is back to normal, he’s grabbing onto Sisky’s head and dragging him away from his neck to kiss him properly. 

The ferocity hasn’t been lost though. Sisky’s teeth tear at Mike’s lips while Mike’s nails draw beads of blood from Sisky’s back. Mike’s eyes snap open and they lock with Gabe’s for a moment. 

And that hot golden yellow gaze isn’t the Mike that Gabe knows.

That realization hits Gabe’s mind at the same time as the sudden understanding that Gabe’s fucking hard. And the narrowing of Mike’s eyes probably means that the wolves know too.

Gabe is momentarily saved from wondering how to proceed with this information when Sisky stops grinding his body against Mike and collapses onto the other werewolf’s chest with a soft sigh. Mike’s yellow eyes close and he pulls Sisky back for one last, long kiss.

“Gabe,” Butcher says. 

Gabe twitches and looks away from Mike and Sisky. Butcher is watching them all from the back seat. His eyes are the same intense yellow as the others. Fuck, he’s probably been watching this whole time. 

Gabe coughs awkwardly and gets up to sit on the first bench seat. Mike and Sisky are untangling themselves and crawling into the back to rejoin Butcher. 

“You guys might want to, uh,” Dan says, “Maybe see if there’s something back there to—you know, if you don’t want Bill…”

As if on cue, the side door of the van opens and Chislett tumbles inside, wagging his tail like a dog. The door slams shut behind him and a moment later, Bill gets back into the front passenger seat. 

“Fucking had to pay them off,” Bill grumbles. Outside, the Animal Control van drives past on the other side of the road. “I can’t believe this. You’re lucky I look out for you all. You all fucking owe me for this.” Bill shoots a harsh glare at Dan. The van starts moving again. Gabe notes that the air conditioner is on almost the highest setting. 

Chislett hops up onto the seat with Gabe, but cranes his neck to look at the back. Gabe bites his lip and pets Chislett. Not much else to do in this weird-as-fuck situation.

“Gabe!” Bill suddenly snaps. 

“Huh?”

“Why didn’t you come out? I could have used some help talking with them!” Bill looks pissed off.

Gabe swallows. “I, uh. I was helping Sisky turn Mike back? So, y’know.”

That seems to be enough of an answer for Bill. He leans back in his seat and sighs heavily. “Whatever. I want to forget this day.”


	14. Andy "Butcher" Mrotek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for sex. Honestly this chapter wasn't originally going to be like this, but this is how it turned out.

_Smack. Smack. Smack._

_This sound must be irritating Bill, but Butcher guesses it’s preferable to listening to four wolves whine and scrape at the bus furniture. Bill hasn’t said a word since he shoved the jars of peanut butter at them. Tom’s in the back with his jar. Mike stole Sisky’s jar (as if he really needs two jumbo jars of peanut butter) and he’s taken a place on the couch beside Bill._

_Smack. Smack. Smack._

_Butcher’s sharing his jar with Sisky. They’re alternating between licking a large scoop of the peanut butter out of the jar, then smacking their lips to get it all down. They’ve got a pretty nice pace going, and together with Mike, they make the smacking sounds at even intervals. It’s pretty fun._

_Smack. Smack. Smack._

_This might be one of the best ideas Bill’s ever had. Butcher needs to congratulate him on his smart thinking when they shift back into humans. It’s brilliance. Bill gets a mostly quiet bus and the wolves get tasty peanut butter._

_Smack. Smack. Smack._

_Butcher’s attention on his and Sisky’s pace is broken by a long, soft, tormented cry of pain. Butcher looks away from the jar for a moment. Bill’s hands are pressed over his ears._

_Smack. Smack. Smack._

_“THIS WAS A MISTAKE.”_

……

When Butcher was in high school, he found it incredibly weird and a bit awkward that he could smell his classmates’ sex lives. Before then, the most interesting thing about being a werewolf in public school was lunchtime.

Eventually, he got used to smelling sex on his classmates. It was almost funny knowing who was sleeping with whom. And who was lying about the amount of sex they’d been having.

Knowing about tour sex is interesting. There are some guys who catch up with wives and girlfriends on occasion, some guys who masturbate almost constantly, and some guys who are attracted enough to other guys that they hook up. 

Butcher’s one of the guys who is comfortable enough with his sexuality to make hookups with other guys a frequent thing. It doesn’t need a name or a label. It’s just something he does to enjoy himself. And, almost since he joined The Academy Is… in 2005, the target of his interest has been Adam Siska.

Sisky is just about everything Butcher could ever want, wrapped into a lanky blonde werewolf package. He’s kind, funny, energetic, and a good bass player—which translates to being amazing with his hands. And Sisky’s wolf _loves_ sex. Sisky enjoys it too, but the wolf is the one who initiates it.

Butcher knows Sisky’s slept with dozens of maybe-gay and bi-curious guys over the years, usually during the full moon when their wolves are acting up. But Adam is tactful about it and doesn’t let Bill know how much he sleeps around. Still, more people know about it than is probably safe. It’s going to slip someday. 

Still, if the summer keeps going the way it’s been going, Bill will stay in the dark for a long time.

At the beginning of the tour, constantly smelling Gabe on Bill was great. Butcher was glad that Bill was distracted. It meant they wouldn’t be having a repeat of last summer, when Bill and Mike were constantly at each other's’ throats and there was no escape. 

But the way he’s been acting this past month is almost reminiscent of when they were writing and recording Santi. Avoidance and excuses. Bill’s been disappearing for hours this past month, only to reappear for shows, interviews, and bus call.

It’s kind of weird, since Bill started out the summer freaking out when Cobra Starship found out their werewolf secret.

Then again, since that event, it seems like Bill’s decided that the werewolves are everyone else’s problem. 

Well.

Butcher’s not really complaining about it. He’s not a kid and he doesn’t need Bill’s supervision. Michael sure as hell seems more comfortable with the space. Sisky and Mike are the only ones taking this personally. Mike’s been expressing that frustration by doing things that he knows will drive Bill nuts. Sisky just mopes sometimes and now seems to cling to either Mike or Butcher more than ever.

And _that_ is why Butcher and Sisky are currently feeling each other up in the back lounge. 

Bill left twenty minutes ago to do ‘something’ with Cobra Starship, which means he’s off to get fucked by Gabe. They should have at least an hour and a half of peace and quiet, unless Mike or Chislett can’t keep people from walking in on them. Or unless Mike decides to be an asshole, which is unlikely since it’s the new moon and Mike’s normally pretty tired on moonless nights.

Butcher’s already shirtless and Sisky just needs to stop kissing his neck long enough for Butcher to get his shirt off too. There’s no rush, really. Butcher likes Sisky kissing him almost as much as he liks half-naked Sisky kissing him. Both are beautiful and sexy. 

But Adam stops, right in the middle of biting Butcher’s ear. 

“Did you hear that?”

Butcher pauses. Mike and Michael whispering in the front lounge.

Mike. “Come on, I’ll give you the money.”

Michael. “Why don’t you just get it yourself?”

Butcher shrugs. “Not interested.” He tugs Sisky’s shirt off and trails his fingertips down Sisky’s sides, stopping once he has his hands on Sisky’s hips. Sisky sighs softly and leans closer. Butcher presses a gentle kiss against Sisky’s chest. 

“Mm, I like this more,” Butcher says. He dips his head down and catches Sisky’s nipple between his teeth. 

Sisky buries a hand in Butcher’s hair. He tugs until Butcher relents, raises his head, and catches Sisky’s lips with his own. Sisky tastes like junk food and pizza, and that combination never fails to make Butcher chuckle. It’s so cute and _so_ Adam Siska. Butcher chases Sisky’s tongue and Sisky hums cheekily against his lips.

Then a sudden forceful push on Butcher’s shoulder sends him toppling back onto the seat. 

Sisky climbs on top of Butcher and leans his head down to brush his nose against Butcher’s. He braces his arms on either side of Butcher’s body. Their groins aren’t touching and it’s frustrating enough that Butcher suspects it’s an intentional move on Sisky’s part.

Butcher cranes his neck up so he can close the short distance between his lips and Sisky’s, but Sisky draws back an inch. There’s a playful grin spreading on his face.

“Are we just gonna tease each other all night?” Sisky whispers.

Butcher smiles back. His hands are still near Sisky’s hips, so he reaches back so he can grab Sisky’s ass and pull him closer. Sisky moans softly as his clothed dick rubs along Butcher’s. God, that’s nice. 

“No,” Butcher says, keeping his voice soft, like Sisky likes it. “I love kissing you, but I also love tasting you. Tasting—” he digs his nails into Sisky’s ass for a brief second, “—you.”

Sisky drops his face back to Butcher’s neck. He bites at that same spot he was kissing just moments ago. His breath spreads goosebumps along Butcher’s skin. “Fuck, _please_ , Andy.”

Butcher scrapes his nails along Sisky’s lower back and tilts his head to the side to find Sisky’s lips again. He lingers there for a long moment, savoring those ridiculously adorable hints of pepperoni and tomato sauce and salty cheese. His hands move rhythmically against Sisky’s lower back and ass, and Sisky gives up trying to hold himself up and lowers himself to lie flat against Butcher. He rocks his hips gently into Butcher’s, matching the movement of Butcher’s hands. 

Sisky’s eyes have fluttered shut by the time that Butcher ends the kiss. Butcher presses a noisy kiss to Sisky’s cheek to make him open them again.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I need to get the lube.”

Sisky rubs his face against Butcher’s neck. “Hurry back.”

Butcher maneuvers his body out from under Sisky. He hurries to the door dividing the back lounge and the bunk area. It still sounds like everyone else is in the front lounge as he opens the door and reaches into his bunk. Chris is laughing hard and Mike is trying to talk over the noise.

“—we can wait until he comes back and, here, I have it recorded—”

The lube isn’t hard to find. Butcher’s hand closes around the bottle and he turns around to return to the back lounge.

Tony’s voice fights with Mike’s for volume in the short moment it takes for Butcher to close the back lounge door. “No, put your camera away.”

Mike shouts, “Until he comes back!”

Butcher shakes his head. He has no fucking clue what’s going on in the front, but he’s glad everyone’s attention is consumed by it. Not that it will do much to drown out the sounds Sisky’s going to make soon.

Butcher gets back onto the couch behind Sisky and sets down the bottle of lube next to him. He leans over Sisky’s back, cups Sisky’s hips with his hands, and starts kissing a line down Sisky’s spine. 

Sisky turns his head to the side so he can watch Butcher out of the corner of his eye. “Where are you going?” he says with his adorable smile still on his face.

Butcher pauses at the small of Sisky’s back. He moves his hands down to Sisky’s ass cheeks and spreads them slightly. The cloth of Sisky’s shorts is pulled tight between his hands. “Somewhere around here. That okay?”

Sisky sighs in bliss. “Yes, fuck, _please_.” He smells so good right now that Butcher has to close his eyes and inhale deeply, relishing it all. 

Then Butcher dips his fingers under the waistband of Sisky’s shorts and tugs them down to his thighs. He takes his hands away and finds the red bottle of lube where he left it on the couch. As he squeezed out a generous amount and fills his sensitive nose with the smell of strawberries, he leans closer and presses another light kiss to Sisky’s ass. 

Sisky giggles. “Come on, you’re going so slow. Go a bit faster? Please?”

Butcher rubs the lube between his fingers to warm it up a bit. He makes eye contact with Sisky and smirks. “You want faster?”

“Yes.” Sisky makes a coy little smile.

“Alright.” And Butcher lowers his face, finds Sisky’s hole, and starts licking slowly, but puts as much pressure as he can into the motion. His tongue pushes ever so slightly into Sisky’s ass with each lick. 

Sisky’s breathing is starting to speed up. His hands clench at the fabric of the couch. “Come on, come on,” he begs.

Butcher takes his mouth away, but replaces it with one lube-coated hand. He pushes gently against Sisky’s hole with a finger, enough to make Sisky’s breath catch. That’s what Butcher always loves hearing. He repeats that a couple more times, adding a bit more pressure each time until he gently pushes his finger into Sisky’s ass. He follows that by reaching around Sisky to grasp his cock with his other lube-covered hand. He’s mostly hard, and a few strokes of Butcher’s hand have him twitching his hips in anticipation.

“God,” Sisky breathes. “I love how you—”

Butcher pushes his finger further into Sisky, making his back tense for a split second. 

“You okay?” Butcher asks. His heart is thudding with excitement, but he’s focusing all of his senses on Sisky, making sure the man he loves is having a good time.

“Yeah,” Sisky groans. That sound goes straight to Butcher’s cock, but he can ignore that for the moment. Sisky inhales shakily. “I. Yes. You can keep—yeah.”

Butcher draws his finger out. His other hand stills on Sisky’s cock for a moment as he one-handedly squeezes more lube onto his fingers. But before he returns his fingers to Sisky’s ass, he puts his mouth back. He slowly pushes his tongue into Sisky’s hole, coating his tongue with intensely strawberry flavored lube. 

Sisky is panting a little. He twitches when Butcher starts slowly pumping his wrist up and down his cock. Butcher’s hard as fuck in his shorts, but it’s so worth waiting if it means he gets to draw all these sounds and smells and reactions out of Sisky.

Butcher works his tongue in and out of Sisky’s ass for a few seconds. Then he brings his fingers back and pushes his finger back into Sisky’s hole, bringing more lube with it. He moves his tongue up and pushes his finger as far as he can, reaching for—

Sisky shudders and moans.

Butcher thrusts his tongue in farther.

And suddenly the front lounge goes quiet. The absence of sound is a bit alarming. Butcher stills and forces himself to ignore Sisky’s beautiful sounds for a second.

Bill’s voice. “What is that _sound_?”

Butcher pulls away from Sisky in a flash. Sisky twists around on the couch and stares at Butcher in horror. 

Bill’s voice is louder as he shouts, “What the _fuck_?!”

“What is _he_ doing back so early?” he pants. 

Butcher shakes his head. Heart pounding, he grabs his and Sisky’s shirts off the floor. Quick, quick, think of a boner killer. Fuck. Just the idea of Bill barging in and seeing them like this. Okay it’s working. Butcher pulls his shirt over his head and turns to help Sisky put his clothes back on.

Sisky looks fucking wrecked, but pulling his shorts back on and the addition of a shirt makes him look— No, he’s still going to give them away. 

Bill screams, “ _Where_?!” He’s stomping around in the front lounge, getting closer to the bunks.

Butcher shoves the lube back in his pocket and wipes the remainder of the lube on his hands onto his shorts.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Sisky is hissing. “What do we—”

Butcher grabs Sisky and pulls him back onto his lap. If they’re going to look like they’ve been up to something, he might as well make it look like they haven’t gotten very far yet. Better to be in a less compromising situation than to be sitting apart and let Bill draw his own conclusions from Sisky’s appearance. 

Mike’s voice suddenly shouts, “No, Bill it’s not in there!”

Bill crashes into the back lounge. Sisky looks over his shoulder at Bill, panicked.

Bill’s face twists from anger to shock to confusion to revulsed horror.

Sisky jumps off Butcher and pats his hair down. “Uh…” Sisky and Butcher both look away from each other. At least neither of them are hard anymore. Terror at being found out from a friend and sort of authority figure (for Sisky) will fix that, it seems.

“What the fuck,” Bill breathes. He takes a shaky step backwards. “Oh my god…”

“Bill, listen, I—” Sisky starts and stops. “What’s that noise?”

Butcher listens. Somewhere in the bus, there’s an unusual noise. It sounds like it’s being played from a phone’s speaker. Something like…

_Smack. Smack. Smack._

Oh. 

Bill’s horror is suddenly replaced by that angry frustrated look. “Fucking _MIKE_!!” he shouts. “Where the _fuck_ —”

“By the way,” Sisky says quickly, still not making eye contact with Bill. “Me and Butcher were just making out, it’s the first time we’ve done it, we were just bored and, uh, yeah. Sorry. We would have found a more private place, but uh, sorry.”

Bill shakes his head. “I don’t—Fuck! MIKE!! Where the _fuck_ is that coming from?” He charges out of the back lounge and everyone in the front of the bus starts laughing. 

Butcher glances at Sisky. “Is that…?”

Sisky shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t think he’ll forget it, but. Maybe by the time he finds whatever’s playing that and finishes yelling at Mike, he’ll go easy on us?”

Butcher smiles. He would love to kiss Sisky right now, not to mention take him someplace quiet and finish what they started, but he’d rather not push his luck. “Next time,” he says, “We get away from the bus to do that.”

Sisky’s soft laugh that follows is almost inaudible over Bill’s frustrated scream. Almost.


	15. Adam T Siska

_It’s a shame that Adam doesn’t look as good as Butcher with his shirt off. His sleeveless shirt just isn’t enough to prevent the heat from soaking into his skin while his sweat soaks the fabric. But he doesn’t want to take off his shirt in this sweltering heat. Well, at least they’re not dealing with Southern humidity._

_Adam takes another long swig of his water bottle and sets it back down on the ground under the merch table._

_Bill’s just finishing up chatting with some fans. “I’ll get back to you girls soon,” he says. “I need to take a quick break.” He grabs Adam’s water from under the table and pours the rest of it down his shirt. Adam deflates a bit as he watches._

_Bill **can’t** still be mad at him about Butcher. That was ten days ago. Things have been a bit tense, but they’ve been talking. Having fun together. Recording TAI TV. Doing interviews and playing incredible shows._

_But he still can’t help but feel like Bill’s been shoving extra distance between them. And he can’t help but feel like it’s a punishment for something._

_“Come on, Sisky,” Bill says. “There’s some more water in the cooler over there.” He points back toward the buses. And yeah, there is a cooler placed just outside The Academy Is…’s merch trailer. Bill takes out two water bottles out and hands the first one to Adam._

_Adam uncaps the water bottle, but screws the cap back on right afterwards and savors the icy cold feeling in his hands. Man, it’s so good. He follows Bill into the shade beside the merch trailer._

_The smell of human sweat is everywhere, masked by bus exhaust, but he can still mostly pick out where and how many. Him, Bill, the three people they left back near the merch table, the usual swarms of guys getting to work, and a pair of fans somewhere. They’ve got a really weird floral perfume that tickles Adam’s nose, even from far away. Ugh. He’s already looking forward to smelling the crowd’s sweat when they get on stage later today._

_“So,” he says, lowering his voice until it’s barely more than a whisper. Bill frowns and bends closer. “You know how we… um.. Tony said he would try to...”_

_Fuck._

_When did it become so hard to talk to Bill about these things? Chizzy was right when he said the band isn’t the same as it was before. This distance thing is really getting to them all._

_“What do you want?” Bill says._

_“We, uh. Tonight. We all want to spend it outside. Since there’s a lot of forests here and it’d be great for… y’know, running around and stuff.”_

_Bill raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t…? Is it the full moon already? I, uh, I haven’t been keeping up with it.”_

_And that cuts a little too hard. Adam swallows and laughs it off. It’s okay. Bill still cares. “No, not yet. The full moon’s not for another few days. But we can still shift. We just… you know… want to have a night for getting away.”_

_“Getting away… to do your werewolf stuff? Yeah, whatever, I don’t really care.”_

_Adam tenses at Bill’s louder tone. He looks over his shoulder quickly at the merch table. The pair of girls with the floral perfume have just spotted him and Bill past the curtain and their faces light up with glee. “I… no, it’s just a...”_

_“Bill! Oh my god, Bill!”_

_“Sisky!”_

_Bill smiles and waves at the girls, who squeal in delight. He looks back at Adam. “Whatever you want, Sisky. If Tony knows where you are, that’s fine. You don’t have to ask my permission for these things, you know.”_

_Adam wants to say, ‘But we used to.’ He doesn’t._

_“Just be careful. Don’t stay out too long howling at the waxing moon.”_

_Adam’s mouth pulls into an irritated scowl. “I know how to—look, just… just letting you know. It’s almost the end of the tour and it’s exciting and—”_

_“Bill! Sisky! Please!”_

_“And you want to go out and be wolves and run around together—”_

_“Shh!” Adam whispers. He glances back at the girls, who have been joined by several others, all pleading for Bill and Adam to come out and meet them._

_“Just talk to Tony, Sisky. I’m going to be hanging out with Gabe after the show anyway.” Bill pats Adam’s shoulder, but the action is not as affectionate as Adam has grown used to in the past few years. It’s absent-minded._

_It’s horribly impersonal. Adam feels his stomach turn. He should be doing something about this._

_But Bill seems happy, looking over at the Cobra Starship bus and smiling. He and Gabe are happy. Bill was so stressed last year, last fall and winter. And now he’s not. Why should Adam ruin that?_

_Adam sighs. Just a few more days of this. He turns away and starts walking back towards the merch table. Bill catches up with him and whispers into Adam’s ear, “Why are you shifting so early, by the way? I thought you said it wasn’t as comfortable as when it’s a fuller moon—”_

_“Shh!” Adam hisses again. They’re way too close to the fangirls for a conversation like this. Not that anyone except a werewolf can pick up on the things they’re saying but… But it still makes the hair on the back of Adam’s neck rise and his teeth grit together from the tension._

_He inhales slowly and exhales even slower. Sweat, cigarettes, exhaust, dirt, floral perfume, and Gabe’s cologne. Normalcy. Or, as close to normalcy as he’s going to get now._

……

Even when he’s escaped all of the lights and roads and houses, Adam can still smell humans. He paces along a walking trail far from the buses for a while, picking out all of the different types of people and dogs who’ve passed and pissed there recently. The sounds of nighttime insects and animals fill his ears, but the noise is soothing after days of endless tour noise and loud music. It’s relaxing, immersing himself and his wolf with the sensations of nature, although this place is still so obviously touched by humans.

Adam pauses, catching a combination of scents that stand out among everything else.

Food in plastic and foil packets. Denim and cigarettes. Leather and metal and sweat. At least five men walking through the woods. The four trucks they arrived in are much farther away.

Adam takes a few slow, soft steps in the direction of the group of nighttime hikers. Campers, most likely. This is always a fun game, picking up as many scents and sounds as he can to figure out more about the humans. He places his paws carefully on the unending bed of dead pine needles beneath. His ears flick to the front to try to pick up any conversation, but the mystery men aren’t talking. Their feet are heavy on the ground, however, and their gear rattles with each step they take. Adam keeps listening and and smelling and he starts picking out more specific details. 

They’re all carrying a lot more metal than he originally thought. Two of them smell faintly of gunpowder, which partially masks the scent of the metals they’re carrying. But the others…

Adam walks nearer, feeling confident that they’re unlikely to hear him. They’re trekking noisily through the forest, crushing sticks and pine needles underfoot. Adam halts for a moment when he catches sight of a tiny concentrated beam of a flashlight, but it seems to be focused on the ground in front of the first man in the line. 

Okay, walking in a line. Hikers? Campers looking for something?

He can pick out the scents more easily, now that he’s closer. One of the men is practically saturated in cigarette smoke, but he’s also carrying something sharp and acrid and—

Adam stops in his tracks. That’s silver. One of them is carrying almost as much silver as the last tattoo and piercing artist Adam had visited with Butcher a few months ago. A little too much expensive metal for a typical camping trip. Or jewelry perhaps?

Anxious but curious, Adam walks closer and closer to the five men. He’s absolutely silent now because the men are changing direction, moving downwind. Two of them seem to be looking at a shared cell phone screen. Then the line stops. Adam stops too.

He’s starting to feel a little uncomfortable being so near a bunch of strange humans with silver. Silently, he turns to walk away.

But a sudden freezing pain that rips viciously into Adam’s shoulder stops him in the middle of his turn. He collapses to the ground, trembling from the shock and the waves of ice and pain that ripple through his torso.

What. What was…?

Footsteps crash through the woods once more, this time heading straight towards Adam. He pants and braces his legs against the ground. He fights to raise himself up. But whatever hit him is numbing the front half of his body, and he crashes back onto the forest floor. Falling onto the thing—fucking silver burning his skin where it isn’t pouring liquid ice into his body—drives it further into his muscle and he lets out a pained yelp.

Adam’s head snaps to the side when the footsteps are now only yards away. He looks up and there are the five men, one of them cradling a rifle in his arm. They’re definitely not dressed like campers. And they certainly don’t look surprised to see him. 

The man carrying the rifle brings it up to aim at Adam again. “What a pretty wolf,” he says with a low chuckle.

Another sharp silver dart digs its way into Adam’s neck, burning his skin and pouring icy tranquilizer into his veins.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Adam thrashes on the forest floor but he can feel himself weakening by the second.

Fuck.

His eyes flutter shut.

Fuck.

Hunters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise.


	16. Bill Beckett

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the chapter with the graphic violence. That specifically is torture. Also blood and stuff.

_Bill wakes up curled up beside Mike. His head is aching and his body is stiff from sleeping in his clothes. Images and snippets of conversation from last night swim through his head, but the hangover presses harder. Pounds against his skull. The light coming in around the edges of Mike’s curtains is painful. Bill buries his face in Mike’s pillow and groans._

_“Shut up,” Mike mutters. He rolls to put a few inches between them and it feels like Bill’s lost a space heater. “My parents’ll hear.”_

_Bill braces himself up on his elbow and drags his fingers through his hair. Ugh. It feels like a disgusting, tangled mess. It’s a problem for later. Much later. He drops back down onto the bed and uses the pillow to hide from the light again._

_“Why are we at your parents’ place?”_

_“Was closer.”_

_Mike sits up for a brief moment to pull a sheet and comforter over their bodies. Bill opens one eye, lifts the pillow up an inch, and glances up at Mike. His back is to Bill and he’s not moving but Bill doesn’t think he’s tired. Past the closed bedroom door, Bill can hear Mike’s parents moving around in the kitchen, chatting amiably._

_Bill returns his attention to Mike. Mike, who brought him home to his parents’ house after last night._

_Bullshit it wasn’t closer. Maybe closer than dragging Bill’s drunk ass onto a plane._

_Bill’s fingers curl around the pillow._

_Soft, hesitant, Bill says, “Did we—”_

_“No.” Mike’s answer is firm and harsh. Definitive. No. Okay. That’s, that’s good. If they did… if something had happened, that would be a mistake. They can’t have mistakes like that in the band. Yeah, they have to think of the band first. No mistakes. Bill bites his lip and tries to think over his next question so he doesn’t make a mistake._

_“Did we... want to…?”_

_Mike rolls back over and stares straight at Bill. His face is only inches away. “No.”_

_That’s a lie. Bill remembers enough of last night. He remembers leaning against Mike and Mike’s hands holding him closer, not pushing him away. Mike’s laugh and Mike’s smile, close enough to create the barest amount of friction against Bill’s skin. He remembers tasting cigarettes and gin on Mike’s lips. He remembers Mike pushing Bill down onto the bed and…_

_He remembers Mike saying no and telling him to stay on the other side of the bed or Mike would shift into a wolf, drag Bill out of the house, and leave him in the yard outside._

_He remembers Mike telling him no._

_Okay._

_He can move on from this. It’s good. It’s better for them and the band that nothing’s happened. Things like, like what might have happened, they ruin bands. They ruin friendships._

_This is better._

……

Bill has just climbed onto Gabe’s lap when the unease starts to creep in. He buries his face in Gabe’s neck and tries to breathe. His stomach is turning over and his heart is beating faster than it did the last time he had done anything with Gabe.

“Hey,” Gabe says. “What’s wrong?”

Bill shakes his head. He tries kissing Gabe again but he doesn’t have enough air. It feels like all of the blood in his body is rushing to his head and then leaving just as quickly. 

Numb, hot, sick, wrong.

Gabe gently pushes him back and holds him by the shoulders. “Bill? Hey, talk to me, man. You wanna stop?”

“I can’t…” Bill pants. “Something’s wrong. I’m sorry, I—”

“Hey, no, we’re stopping now, okay?” Gabe shuffles backwards to put a bit more space between the two of them. “Panic attack? You need water or something?”

“I don’t know,” Bill says, his chest still shaking and heaving. He shudders and rubs at his arms. His vision finally starts to clear again after he blinks carefully and holds as still as he can. “I don’t feel right.”

“Shit, you think you might be getting sick?” Gabe asks. He takes a hand away from Bill’s shoulders and presses it against his forehead. “You don’t feel too warm… think it might be something you ate?”

Bill shakes his head again. He pushes away from Gabe with shaky hands. “I need air.” He feels like he’s suffocating. He slides off Gabe’s lap and places one foot on the floor.

And promptly falls over.

Gabe is at his side in an instant.

“Whoa, take it easy. I’ll help you outside, okay?”

“Thanks,” Bill says. He lets Gabe pull him to his feet again and guide him to the front of the bus. As soon as he starts breathing in the cool night air, he begins to feel the blood flowing better through his body. But it doesn’t ease the panic and fear that are still flooding his body. Why the fuck is this happening?

Gabe walks Bill to the side of the bus and helps him lean against the warm metal. “Just try to relax,” he says. “We can sit out here until you feel better. Or until everyone else gets back.” He glances at the sky.

Bill also looks up at the sky. At the glowing, waxing moon high above them.

The hot fear coursing through his body suddenly turns icy. The image of Adam leaving the bus earlier appears vividly in his mind. Adam giving him a long hug before running back to change out of his clothes and shift into a wolf. Adam bumping Bill’s knee on the way out the door and pausing to lean his head against Bill’s thigh. 

Laughing.

Smiling.

Adam.

Bill breathes deeply as his torso shakes again, but this time he can’t smell the exhaust from the buses or the lingering cigarette smoke. He can smell damp earth and an oversaturation of metal and gunpowder. He can smell blood.

Bill pushes away from the side of the bus and takes off blindly.

“Wait, Bill, what—”

“I need to find them,” Bill shouts back, his voice catching in his throat. “I need… something’s wrong with them!”

“What?”

At that moment, there’s a long, loud howl. Bill recognizes it as Butcher and pushes his body to move faster, towards the trees, into the forest, across the carpet of pine needles on the ground. Butcher’s howl is joined by Mike’s and then by Michael’s. Their voices resonate with the shaky panic that is rushing through Bill. 

Bill strains to hear a fourth howl, over the sounds of the three wolves, the blood in his ears, and the crashing of his feet against the ground.

Adam’s howl doesn’t come. Butcher, Mike, and Michael’s howls fade for a moment, and then they sound again, a strong, unified call in the moonlit forest. They’re closer and louder, but they sound wrong without Adam.

Bill keeps running straight, in the direction of the howls, crashing through thin branches that snag at his shirt and jeans. The howls trail off again and the forest is quieter in their wake.

Bill unconsciously starts to slow down. His lungs are burning from the exertion. Gabe catches up with him, panting heavily.

“Bill, what—”

“Sisky.”

“What?” Gabe looks confused.

“Sisky wasn’t howling, just then,” Bill explains while trying to catch his breath. “Something’s wrong. Something happened.”

Even in the bright glow of the almost-full moon, Bill doesn’t see Butcher, Mike, and Michael running towards him until the moonlight makes their yellow eyes glow. They slow to a halt as they reach Bill and Gabe. Butcher paces over to Bill and whines. Mike growls and slams his paw onto the ground. Michael can’t stay still. He starts walking towards Bill, then turns aside, his head bowed.

“Where is he?” Bill asks. He reaches down and grabs Butcher’s face. Everything is moving too fast and too slow all at the same time. Everything feels wrong and he feels sick to his stomach and he has no idea what to do. “Why aren’t you with him? Is he hurt? Is he—”

Butcher shakes his head back and forth. Michael walks back and forth, whining. Mike growls louder and leaps towards Bill, then walks away for a few steps.

“Show us where he is?” Gabe suggests. Mike takes off instantly. Michael and Butcher follow after, but take more moderate paces and look back over their shoulders at Bill and Gabe. Bill starts running again with Gabe close behind.

After another five minutes of jogging, the wolves’ footsteps become silent on the pine needles. They stop to sniff at the air and start leading Bill and Gabe in a new direction. Bill takes the hint and tries to step more carefully. The slower pace allows him to regain control of his breathing again, so he’s not gasping so loudly for breath.

Finally, they stop at the top of a hill. The wolves’ body language grows tense and hostile. Bill can see a bright light below. He narrows his eyes and tries to pick out details through the sparse trees separating them from the light source.

At the base of the hill is a tactical-looking campsite. Four pickup trucks and three U-Haul trailers are parked at one end. Large metal containers are stacked up beside the trucks. At least half a dozen bright electric lanterns shed light in all directions. Five men are scattered across the campsite, all wearing tactical gear and all but one of them holding guns.

At the center of the campsite is a solid metal post. And chained to it with a large metal collar is Adam.

Bill feels his insides turn. Beside him, Butcher whines softly.

Adam is lying down, but his head lifts up briefly and for a split second, he looks in their direction. Then his head drops back to the ground.

Two of the men—no… they’re _hunters_ —walk closer to where Adam lies. Over the sounds of insects, Bill can just barely hear them talking to each other.

“It’s awake.”

“Yeah, I can fucking see it’s awake.”

“So get it to start calling for its pack. There’s at least three more out there.”

“What do you want me to do? Shoot at it? It didn’t howl or nothin’ when we caught it.”

“It’s a fucking _werewolf_. It’s can think. It’s fuckin’ smart enough to know how to protect its pack.”

Another hunter emerges from behind one of the trailers, holding a long thin piece of metal that gleams in the light. “Don’t shoot him. There are better ways to get a wolf to cry.”

Bill tenses and the wolves tremble in anger next to him.

No.

The man holding the piece of metal walks close to Adam, almost close enough for Adam to jump up and bite him. He lifts the piece of metal high in the air, then brings it down in a swift movement, striking it across Adam’s shoulder.

Adam cries out softly, shuffling away from the man but only managing to move a few feet due to the short length of chain. The man brings the metal down again and again, aiming at Adam’s shoulder and neck and face.

“Stop it,” Bill growls, fists clenching. Gabe grabs his arm tightly.

“Bill, wait, we can’t just go rushing in—”

“—they’re hurting him!” Bill snaps, louder.

“Shh! They’ll know we’re here!”

Adam’s still only whining and yelping, and the man with the metal stick is starting to get visibly annoyed, hitting harder in the same three spots. Adam tries to cover his face with his paws, but the man kicks harshly at him.

“Those fuckers—” Bill swears and surges up in an attempt to break out of Gabe’s grip. Next to him, the wolves are already standing, tense and shaky and barely holding back their own angry snarls.

“Bill, stop and think for a moment!” Gabe hisses. “They want you to go charging in, look! They left him right in the center and if that’s not a trap—”

The man kicks Adam in the neck, the same place he’s been hitting him with the piece of metal. Adam lets out a choked cry. It sounds like nothing that Bill’s ever heard before. It’s something that he never wants to hear again.

“Why don’t you fucking howl, you useless fucking _dog_ ,” the man spits, jabbing the end of the metal against Adam’s shoulder. Adam whines and the sound tears at Bill.

“Motherfuckers you fucking—” Bill yanks his arm away from Gabe and starts charging down the hill. Three large, blurred shapes pass him in seconds.

Bill only has eyes for Adam and the man who’s been torturing him. That evil motherfucker stops to look towards the hill as Bill and the three wolves crash through the trees and underbrush.

Mike and Butcher reach the campsite first, neck and neck, and they charge straight for the hunters surrounding Adam. Michael’s only a few paces behind them. They’re all snapping and snarling, and Bill can _feel_ their bloodlust.

And then, only a few yards away from Adam, Mike and Butcher’s legs fall out from beneath them and the two wolves skid to the ground. Michael falls in the same manner, several feet behind them. Their muscles all strain and they growl and howl in rage, but they don’t move from where they’ve fallen.

Bill’s heart leaps in new fear. He slides on the pine needles and manages to slow his momentum at the edge of the campground. All six hunters watch him, and three of them bring up their rifles. The hunter who was hitting Adam steps away from the wolf and swings the metal at his side.

Bill looks away from the hunters and glances helplessly at Mike, Butcher, and Michael, then at the area where they’ve fallen. It’s mostly covered with needles, but there are two distinct circles surrounding the wolves, one colored a rust-brown and the other black. Hundreds of tiny indigo wolfsbane flowers are spread among the needles.

“Let them go,” Bill says, his voice breathless but still infused with rage.

“And what are you?” one of the hunters drawls.

Bill’s fists shake. “Let them go,” he repeats.

The metal rod gleams silvery in the light. The man holding it taps it against the ground a few times. “You ain’t a wolf, are you? You’d be shifted by now.”

“I told you to **LET THEM GO!** ” Bill screamed. On the ground in front of Bill, the wolves snarl and strain against the trap. Adam lifts his head shakily.

The hunter looked from Bill to Adam with a puzzled frown. “Make the ones in the trap shut up,” he says. With that cue, the three hunters holding guns shoot at Mike, Butcher, and Michael, peppering their backs with feathered needle darts. Tranquilizer darts. The wolves whine and flail around.

Bill runs at the closest hunter, who is busy reloading his gun. “Stop!” Bill yells. He swings his arm back mid stride and punches the hunter square in the face. The man groans and reels backwards. But before Bill can land another hit, two of the hunters seize him roughly and drag him away.

The hunters haul Bill away from the trap and bring him before their apparent leader, the heartless douchebag holding the silver rod. This close, Bill can see the rod is dotted with drops of blood. 

Adam’s blood. 

These _fuckers_. Bill is going to kill them all.

The hunter presses the rod against the skin of Bill’s neck and frowns.

“No, not a wolf.” He says in a tone as casual as if he’s checking the fucking weather. He leans closer to Bill. “Then what are you? A witch?”

Beside the leader, the two other hunters have reloaded. They step around the two hunters holding Bill and fire more tranquilizer darts at the wolves.

“Leave them alone!” Bill yells, straining in the hunters’ hold. He can still hear the wolves crying out at the intrusion of the darts, but Michael’s voice is starting to grow faint. “Michael!”

Mike growls loudly. A split second later, Butcher yelps.

“One of them is pulling the darts out of the others,” one of the hunters says.

“Then put that one down faster,” the leader orders. He looks past Bill and glares in the direction of the wolves in the trap.

Bill continues struggling to wrestle out of the hunters’ grips. Suddenly the side of his head starts throbbing in pain and he stops moving. One of the hunters must have punched him. _Fuck!_

Bill shouts, “Mike! Butcher! Get out of there!”

“Whoa, what the fuck!” a hunter exclaims. 

Bill looks over his shoulder to see Mike’s standing up at the edge of the trap, blazing yellow fury in his eyes and teeth gleaming in the lamplight. Pride and hope swells in Bill’s heart. Then a hand fists in Bill’s hair and pulls him harshly back to face the leader. Bill glares at the hateful man, but his eyes are suddenly caught by a small movement. 

Behind the hunter, Adam is struggling to stand up.

“Sisky, no, please get down,” Bill pleads. He can see patches of blood in Adam’s fur. 

Adam shakes his head. He braces himself, and then yanks hard at the chain tying him to the stake. The dirt around the stake shifts, but only barely.

Behind Bill, Mike and Butcher’s cries grow faint. There’s a Mike-sized thud and Bill flinches. 

Bill feels like his heart is caught in a steel trap. He’s stuck in a hopeless situation. These hunters are torturing his best friends in the entire world. He can’t do anything. He can’t hope for any help from Gabe, because what can a single unarmed, untrained guy do against these people?

The leader squints at Bill. “What the hell are you?” he mutters. “You can’t just be a normal fucking human.”

Bill twists, hoping to wrench one of his arms free so he could punch this disgusting human garbage in the face. But all he gets is the hand in his hair pulling harder, causing Bill to gasp and wince.

Adam suddenly snarls, loud and fierce. The leader sighs and lets go of Bill’s hair. He strides back to Adam. The wolf, the kid who Bill has always seen as his little brother, is hunched and snarling and straining against the chain. 

“The fuck do you think you can do?” the hunter taunts. “Huh?! You dumb wolf fucker!” He kicks at the damp dirt in front of Adam. The wolf pulls hard on the chain, snapping his jaws and growling. The stake shifts in its place. Bill glances back at Adam and freezes when he sees all the blood staining Adam’s face.

“Stop! Don’t hurt him!” Bill shouts. He squirms in the hunters’ hold, fighting vainly to escape and help Adam.

The leader lifts the metal rod up again.

“ **STOP!** ”

Adam bites the rod as it swings down at his face. Bill can see the silver instantly burning the wolf’s mouth and lips, but Adam doesn’t let go of the horrible piece of metal. He jumps backwards, yanking the rod out of the leader’s hands. Only then does he drop it on the ground. Adam moves to stand over the rod, growling.

“Sisky…” Bill whispers, his struggles fading for a moment. The contact with the silver for even just a few seconds has left awful red burns on Adam’s mouth. Still the wolf snarls and growls threateningly at the leader.

“So you’re not just a pretty wolf,” the leader muses. “You’re also a stupid loyal wolf to…” he casts a glance back at Bill, “…whatever you are. Hm.” He stands there for a long moment, considering Bill while separating him and Adam.

“Tranq the wolf,” the leader finally says.

Bill tenses, then starts fighting to escape the hunters holding him again. “No! What the fuck are you gonna do to them!?”

The leader scoffs and turns his back on Adam. There are now two tranquilizer darts in Adam’s neck, and he sinks to the ground, still growling. Like Michael, Butcher, and Mike minutes before, his voice is rapidly fading. 

The leader crouches down to look Bill evenly in the eyes.

“This is the part where I could waste time and talk to you like I care about you knowing my reasons. But I don’t care. I only came here for the wolves, but since you have such a… special bond with them, you’ll be coming along too.”

Something hits Bill on his upper back, stinging his flesh and spreading something cold through his body. He mind goes blank when he realizes what it is. The hunters finally let him go and he falls forwards, only just managing to brace himself before he hits the ground face-first. 

Bill lifts his head just in time to watch Adam’s eyelids drop shut.

“Funny thing about that tranquilizer, it takes about three shots to get a werewolf down. Two if they’re not all furry. Who knows what one dose will do to a human… or a witch or whatever the fuck you are.”

Bill’s arms feel weak. He rolls onto his side and shakes from the fruitless effort of trying to stay awake. His vision grows dark along the edges.


	17. Gabe Saporta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for guns I guess.

_A lot can change in a year. It’s a simple fact of life._

_Things like buildings, walls, and roads can be built or torn down. Ideologies can take root and spread like a forest fire. A small time band can suddenly have a major hit and become a success story. Family members can be born and pass away._

_A person you knew better than anyone can turn into a complete stranger._

_People change._

_People grow apart._

_People move on._

_And the feelings fade from both sides. Although the other side might never have had feelings in the first place…_

_Gabe has been staring at a notepad on which a phone number is scribbled for close to ten minutes. Beside the notepad is a plain black desk phone. And sitting across from Gabe, Alex Sarti is giving him that look again._

_Fuck, Gabe is wasting his time._

_Sarti sighs. “I can make the call if—”_

_“No,” Gabe says quickly. “No, I want to be the one to ask him.”_

_He should be the one to ask him. After…_

_Gabe bites the inside of his cheek. He’s not ready for this. They didn’t exactly part ways on the best of terms. It’s not like they have any reason to hate each other, but too many things were left unsaid. It’s too late to salvage what they had and turn it into what Gabe had hoped for._

_Fuck. He’s absolutely not ready to dive back into this. But he can’t waste Crush’s time any more than he already has. That thought—the reminder that the music business will not tolerate this kind of trivial bullshit—finally pushes him into action._

_Gabe picks up the desk phone and numbly dials the number on the pad. It’s different from the last number… It’s another thing that’s changed in the past year._

_There’s a soft tone._

_Then a second._

_A third._

_A fourth._

_He’s not going to pick up._

_Gabe’s fingers tense on the plastic of the receiver. Fuck, fuck. This was a bad idea. Sure, Travie will be all up for doing this, but… not—_

_“Hello?”_

_Gabe’s heart grows tight in his chest. Fuck. His voice shouldn’t still do this to him. Then again, he’s been listening to Almost Here for—_

_“Hello? Is anyone there?”_

_Gabe swallows. “Hey. Bill. It’s, uh, Gabe Saporta.”_

_There’s a short pause. It could be longer, but Gabe takes control before this can get any more awkward._

_“So, listen, I’m starting something new. It’s completely different from Midtown. I have this idea and I was wondering if you’d want to collab on a song…”_

……

Gabe holds his phone tightly as he kneels on the forest floor at the top of the hill. He only has one bar of service, which is just barely enough to hold his call to Dan. Unfortunately, it seems like the only thing he can do for Bill and the rest of TAI is wait, watch, and report what’s going on to people who can help. He hopes that the hunters can’t hear or see him where he’s hidden behind a thick tree.

Tensely, Gabe whispers, “Bill’s down now.” His voice almost catches on the words. His heart is still racing from watching that horrible scene.

“Is he hurt?”Ryland says quietly.

“They used their tranquilizer guns.” Gabe pauses, watching the area below. One of the hunters is dragging a foot through the faint lines of the wolf trap and another is rolling a flat cart across the uneven ground. On the far side of the site, another hunter opens up two of the U-Haul trailers. Gabe’s blood runs cold at the sight of what is inside.

Cages large enough to hold one wolf each.

“They’re taking the wolves,” Gabe breathes.

“What?” Dan gasps.

“They’ve got cages in the trailers, they’re…” Two of the hunters haul Butcher’s unconscious form onto a cart. They wheel him over to one of the trailers. One climbs into the trailer and returns with an armful of… things. A gleaming metal collar, which they immediately fasten around Butcher’s neck. A steel muzzle, which they secure over Butcher’s face. And two short steel cables, which they use to link the edges of the cage to the collar once the hunters push Butcher’s sleeping body into the cage. 

Then they go back for Mike and start the process over again. 

“Gabe, Gabe,” Dan is repeating gently but firmly. “Can you read the license plates, or—”

Gabe squints. “I’d have to get a bit closer. Uh, they’re U-Hauls, so I can tell you what’s on the side. Uh, one says Seattle and has a picture of a hang glider. One says Hollywood but I have no clue what the picture is. And the last one… Bismarck. Cowboys or something.”

“Did you get that?” Vicky’s voice is distant. She’s presumably talking to someone else.

“What do I do now?” Gabe asks.

“Wait where—” The call cuts off and Gabe carefully takes a few steps back into the forest, desperate to find that single bar of service again. It shows up, then disappears just as quickly. He grits his teeth and walks quietly backwards, taking slow steps even as his heart is pounding loudly in his chest. 

The service bar comes back for a couple seconds but disappears again. Gabe almost can’t see down into the hunters’ clearing anymore. He freezes and watches one of the hunters drag an unconscious Bill towards the trailers.

His phone suddenly buzzes in his hand. Gabe almost drops it. Shit. Good thing it’s only on vibrate. 

“Gabe!” Ryland says urgently. “Are you there?”

“Quiet,” Gabe whispers. “I lost the signal for a bit.” He looks back at the clearing but he can’t see Bill anymore. He can, however, see that the hunters are loading Sisky into a cage in the second trailer. Chislett is the last one on the cart. One of the hunters is walking around, turning off some of the lights, and taking them to the third trailer.

“Dan and Suarez are headed out to find you,” Ryland says. “Can you remember how to get to where you are?”

“I don’t know,” Gabe says honestly. “I followed Bill and the wolves. I think I could find my way back but—” 

He can only barely see the site now. The hunters are packing up too quickly. They’re talking to each other in short commands, noisy enough to smother the sounds of Gabe’s soft conversation. One of them closes the second trailer and the rest hurry around the clearing, grabbing the rest of the equipment.

Dan and Suarez aren’t going to be here in time. Very soon, the hunters will be gone and they’ll have Bill, Sisky, Mike, Butcher, and Chislett with them. 

“We’re looking at a map right now.” Vicky says. “There’s a couple trails in that forest, but there’s no way of telling which one they’d use. Unless you have a compass.”

Gabe shakes his head. “No. I fucking wish I did. Wish I had some way of...” He trails off, straining to hear the voices below. Suddenly, one of the trucks’ engines ignites, followed closely by a second. Forgetting about the signal, Gabe rushes back to the top of the hill and watches the remaining two trucks start their engines. 

One by one, the trucks leave. 

And Gabe is alone.

His breathing is loud in the absence of the hunters’ noise.

“Gabe? Gabe! What happened?” Nate’s shouting.

“They’re gone.”

Gabe stands there in shock for a long moment. This can’t be—they can’t just be _gone_. Bill and Mike and them, they’re cool. This doesn’t happen to—

Fuck, he can’t just wait here and let them get away. Gabe spins around and starts running back the way he came. It’s nearly impossible to be sure which way, but he’s got to reach the edge of the forest soon. 

After a few long minutes of running, his breath is coming in heavy pants. His footsteps are loud as hell in the forest, the noise only accompanied by the screams of bugs. It hurts to remember how he had entered this forest earlier, following three graceful wolves and Bill’s back through the trees. 

He focuses on the ground in front of him, squinting at the dark masses of fallen trees and rocks to avoid tripping on anything. 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he comes across a trail.

Gabe hesitates for a moment, then starts running along the trail. Shit, yes, there’s someone with a flashlight just around this bend of trees. He’s got to be close, he’s—

He almost runs headfirst into Dan and Alex. Dan catches him before they can do any damage to each other.

“Gabe—” Dan says.

Gabe can barely get any words out. “Bus,” he manages.

Dan and Alex both nod. They turn and lead Gabe back down the trail. It takes longer than Gabe expected to get back to the parking lot where only the Cobra Starship bus is left. Fuck, fuck, _shit_ , they’ve lost so much time waiting for him.

“Everyone else left to look for the U-Hauls,” Alex explains as they get Gabe onto the waiting bus. “Come on, we’ve got all the roads covered. They can’t have gone too far with them. We’ll find them soon.”

Gabe nods. Okay. The weight in his chest isn’t as crushing as it was moments ago. 

As soon as the door closes behind them, the bus jolts and starts moving. Gabe sits down in the front lounge, where the crew is studying a large map of the state of Washington. Nate and Ryland are also studying a map—a more local map of the forest and trails in it. Gabe sits down next to them and they move the map so he can see.

The bus is already speeding, sending them flying as they pass over a small bump on the road. Vicky is at the front of the bus with the driver, bracing herself on the rails. Most likely keeping watch for the U-Hauls. That combination can’t be common around here, Gabe hopes.

Gabe looks carefully at each winding trail road in the forest he just left. It looks like most of the trails meet up with a single road. There’s only one exception, a trail that arcs in the opposite direction.

“Fall Out Boy’s people and Paul’s guys went west on that road,” Ryland explains, pointing at the detail that Gabe has noticed. “+44 is going east. We’re going to join up with +44 unless you think they took this trail that connects to a different road.” 

“I…” Gabe falters. It was dark. He was more focused on what was happening than where it was. It makes sense that people driving trucks and trailers would take one of these trails to make the journey easier, but… 

“Everyone’s looking for the trailers you saw,” Nate adds. “If anyone sees anything, they’re going to call Tony first. The Academy’s crew is waiting for news somewhere in Tacoma. Once they hear anything, they’ll get everyone moving.”

Gabe narrows his eyes and studies the map some more. The bus swerves and almost throws a couple of the crew guys off their seats. “It wasn’t a big place where— Really small, almost like this one,” Gabe points at a small clearing on the map. There are no trail roads that lead directly to the clearing he’s indicated, but there are two nearby. One joining the road that everyone’s searching and the one that doesn’t. Fucking great. He should have followed them to get a better idea.

Dan’s phone rings loudly and all of the muttering in the bus stops. Dan quickly answers the phone and puts it on speaker. “Yes?”

Tony’s voice sounds strained. “Lipski. Paul just called. He’s found the trailers. West side of an industrial yard called New Tacoma.”

“Did he see them?” Gabe asks. 

“Paul said one of his guys followed the trailers there in a taxi,” Tony says. “Exactly as you described: Seattle, Hollywood, and Bismarck. We’re heading to a point nearby to rendezvous and figure out a plan.” He recites an address and Dan repeats it back. At the front of the bus, Gabe notices that Vicky is entering the address into the GPS. 

“Gabe, you said these guys are armed?” Tony asks, a little shakily.

“Yes,” Gabe says. He’s feeling like things are happening too quickly again, but at least they know where Bill and his guys are. At least they can try to save… but. Guns. Those hunters could have anything in their trailers and trucks. They could have met up with more people, armed people. 

Gabe’s starting to realize that they might all be about to dive into a very dangerous situation. 

But he can’t just let those assholes take Bill, Mike, Sisky, Butcher, and Chislett away again. And, looking around the bus at the determined faces of his band and crew, he knows that nobody else is going to let that happen either.

“Right.” Tony says. “So we need a lot of distraction. Nothing big. I don’t want to run the risk of losing the boys to the cops again.”

“A distraction like…” Dan glances at the crew. “Bright lights and loud noise?”

Gabe gasps softly.

By the time they reach Tony’s rendezvous point, Dan and Tony have figured out the bare bones of a plan. Everyone, including the bus drivers, gather in an empty museum parking lot. A pair of taxis are the last to pull in. Paul and his manager step out of one. Two of his crew guys exit the other. 

Gabe pushes his way into a large circle of guys crowded around a map of Tacoma. Everyone gathered is silent, eager to hear the plan. 

Tony speaks up first. “Alright. Paul, did you find out where exactly they are?”

The crowd parts to let Paul into the inner circle. “Yeah, they got our boys right ‘bout,” he taps his finger against a spot on the map, “Here. Only saw six of ‘em, but they ain’t messin’ around. Two armed with choppers. AKs,” he adds quickly.

“Shit,” Dan hisses. Then he raises his voice, “Okay, listen, we’ve got a plan, but it’s going to be fucking dangerous since these guys are armed. If anyone’s worried about getting shot, you don’t have to come.”

Nobody answers, so Tony continues, “We need to get all of our portable lights, speakers, fucking radios, anything that’s bright and loud. We need as many people causing chaos as we can. Throw rocks at them, I don’t care. I’ll give some kind of signal to start. Anyway, we startle these guys, get them to come after us or split up. Then whoever’s not on the distraction team goes in and gets our guys out.”

Gabe sees a couple nods in the crowd. About a dozen guys offer to make the distraction. 

“Are we all going in the buses?” Mark asks. “They’re not really discreet.”

“We don’t have much of a choice if we don’t want to lose them,” Tony says. “We need to move fast.”

The next few minutes are a blur. Dan shoves the band back onto the bus while the crews get gear out of the trailers. They pile back into the buses in record time. Then TAI’s bus is leaving. Cobra’s bus follows. Everyone is sitting, but there’s a heavy air of tension that keeps everyone silent. 

Gabe stares out through the front window as they drive into the darkened industrial yard. There are trucks driving through and a couple people working that he can see. It must be weird seeing a bunch of tour buses pass through a place like this. 

TAI’s bus soon pulls over and the guys all get out, although their driver stays inside this time. Cobra’s bus does the same. Gabe looks over his shoulder to see that the rest of the buses have similarly followed them. Tony isn’t holding anything, but the crew is armed with lights and a pair of backup speakers that run on batteries. Tony nods at Gabe’s band and crew, then starts walking as quietly as possible towards the place that Paul pointed out on the map several minutes ago.

Gabe and Ryland catch up with Tony. Gabe whispers as softly as he can, “Tony, I… I wanna help… get ‘em out. I…”

Tony says nothing for a long moment. Until he says, almost too soft for Gabe to hear, “I know.”

They pause before turning around a corner. Tony pokes his head out, then quickly turns it back. He lets out a shaky breath. 

“They there?” Alex asks anxiously.

Tony nods. “Fuck. Alright, ready?”

Gabe looks back at the guys. They’re holding their equipment ready. TAI’s sound guy has hooked up Ipods to each of the speakers they’ve brought. Some of the guys have scooped up small rocks. The people who have gathered all nod grimly.

Tony nods too. He closes his eyes. “Okay… GO!!”

He runs around the corner, followed by Gabe and the rest of their group. There’s a cargo container separating them from the trailers, and everyone follows Tony to crouch behind it. Their portable stage lights flash on and off like half a dozen strobes. A country hit from 2006 that Gabe pointedly ignored when it was popular starts playing very loudly, followed quickly by ACDC’s Thunderstruck. 

From the other side of the warehouse to their backs, more lights are flashing. Five other loud songs start playing: Fall Out Boy’s Thnks fr th Mmrs, T-Pain’s Shawty, Beyonce’s Irreplaceable, Green Day’s American Idiot, and The Academy Is…’s We’ve Got A Big Mess On Our Hands.

Gabe peers over the top of the cargo container. 

The six hunters are looking around in confusion. Just as Paul said, two are holding automatic rifles in their hands, although, as Gabe eyes them in concern, the black metal suddenly glows a bright red-orange. The men swear and drop them.

To the side of the group of hunters are the trailers, two of which are open. The four cages are lined up behind the hunters, closer to the dock. There’s no sign of Bill, which drives shards of panic through Gabe’s chest again. 

“They dropped their guns,” Tony exclaims, barely audible over the cacophony of clashing music. 

“How the fuck did—” Ryland yells.

Gabe looks back at the hunters. The two who had been holding guns have abandoned them on the ground and are running back towards the trucks. At first, Gabe is afraid they’re going to come back with more weapons, but instead, they climb into two of the pickup trucks, start the engines and drive away with the two open trailers.

“Yes!” one of TAI’s crew guys shout.

“No!” Tony shouts back. “They might have Bill in those! Come on!” And with that, Tony runs around the corner of the cargo container and charges at the two remaining trucks. Gabe, Ryland, and about six guys from the other group follow. 

The rest of the hunters are running for the trucks. Someone—a security guy from the way his muscles bulge in his T-shirt—winds his arm back and punches one of the hunters in the jaw. The guy drops, out cold, before he can reach the truck. Gabe and Tony grab at the door handle at the same time.

After a second of fumbling over each other, Gabe pulls the door open. 

Bill is slumped over in the passenger seat. His arms are tied behind his back and he looks like a wreck, but his chest is moving up and down. Gabe sighs in relief. 

Tony appears on the other side of the truck and opens the passenger door. Gabe runs around the truck, ignoring the noises and blurs and flashes of everything else that’s going on around him. Together, he and Tony carefully ease Bill out of the truck. Gabe hefts Bill up into his arms and holds him close against his chest. He closes his eyes and breathes, taking comfort in Bill’s familiar weight.

He’s going to be safe. It’s going to be okay.

Gabe feels like collapsing on the ground, but no, he can’t do that yet. He opens his eyes again and examines the remainder of the discord around him. Two of the remaining hunters are escaping in the truck, taking away the last trailer. The last hunter is running away along the docks, chased by five guys yelling bloody murder and throwing rocks.

There are a couple guys gathered around the cages. One of them is open already. Gabe looks back and sees everyone emerging from behind their cover. One by one, the speakers turn off. A few guys run back around the warehouse.

Suddenly Dan’s beside Gabe, patting him on the shoulder. “Come on, Gabe. They’re going to bring TAI’s bus around so we can get the wolves out of here.”

Gabe presses his face against the top of Bill’s head. There’s a dried trickle of blood in Bill’s long hair, but otherwise he looks like he’ll be fine.

They’re going to be okay. Bill, Mike, Sisky, Butcher, Chislett—they’re all going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a certain security in large numbers and Beyonce's Irreplaceable.


	18. Mike Carden

_“It’s the end. Hate it.”_

_Mike raises an eyebrow at Bill. Mike’s smoking to keep alert enough to walk home, but they’ve stopped half a block down from the last Midtown show’s afterparty. Recharging. Breathing fresh air, in Bill’s case._

_“Why?” Mike asks._

_Bill’s unsteady on his feet, standing just far enough away to avoid Mike’s smoke. He shrugs and doesn’t quite meet Mike’s eyes. “It’s… going out with a bang,” he says and sighs like the melodramatic fucker he is. “Doesn’t feel right. It’s Midtown. Means too much.”_

_Mike drops his cigarette, burned down to a stub, and crushes it underfoot. “You’re gonna regret not staying in there. It’s a celebration. Get fucked. See if you can fuck Gabe Saporta of Midtown. Last night you can do it.” The words feel hot and leave his mouth like blood rushing from a bite wound. Like he’s ripping off the bandage before it’s even fastened._

_The neon CLOSED sign above them burns painfully in Mike’s eyes, so he focuses on watching Bill instead. Bill’s leaning against the filthy brick wall with his eyes shut. “Shouldn’t be a celebration. Should be mourned.”_

_Mourned. Of course. Bill and his undying love and putting Midtown on a goddamn golden pedestal with Gabe fucking Saporta right in the center. Fuck. Yeah, mourn Saporta’s pretty face and pretty voice. Mourn the music, because it’ll only ever be played on CDs from now on. In a year, someone’s going to see Saporta working in retail somewhere._

_Bill opens his eyes when a crowd of drunken Midtown fans stumbles out of the door a few doors down. Mike lights up again and watches them in silence. One of them’s wearing a beer-stained Midtown shirt. What a waste. Those things won’t be made anymore._

_The crowd jaywalks across the street, barely avoiding a taxi that honks at them._

_Bill groans. “I don’t wanna be here anymore.”_

_“What, you want to go back in?” Mike doesn’t think the bouncer will let them return. Mike maybe, but not Bill. And he can’t just leave him out here._

_“No. Let’s go home.”_

_Home. Mike wonders which home Bill’s talking about. The apartment, most likely. But Bill hates that place. Mike hates it too. Usually because Bill piles dirty dishes in the sink until they crash onto the floor. Because Bill will complain and argue about everything and Mike will turn right around and jab at all the things that will make Bill shake and stutter through his rage._

_Mike blows his smoke up at the smoggy night sky, watching it obscure the CLOSED sign for a few seconds. It disappears. He repeats it, a mindless action, until the glowing end starts to burn his fingers._

_Time to go home._

_Mike grabs Bill’s arm and drags him across the street, back towards the car. Bill seems surprised to be moving at first. Once he’s got the hang of walking, he clings to Mike’s side, even twining his arms around Mike’s torso. Mike frowns but returns his attention to where he’s going._

_Bill says this is the end of something great. It is. Mike’s going to miss Midtown and Gabe Saporta too. He’s a great guy. Maybe someday they’ll see him on tour and hang out again._

_Mike’s getting distracted. Bill has started to lean his head against Mike’s shoulder, which barely works because Bill’s taller. Bill’s face is getting dangerously close to Mike’s face._

_Mike stops. Thank god they’re at the car. It’s short work to dig his keys out of his jacket pocket and unlock the car. Detaching Bill from his side is a bit harder._

_“Hey, Bill, get in the car,” Mike says. Fuck, he’s a bit too drunk for this. He shouldn’t try to drive all the way back to the apartment. Going back there would also mean dragging drunk Bill up several flights of stairs and no way is he doing that tonight. He’d rather not deal with his bandmates, and he doesn't want to drag Bill to any of their friends' places. That idea just doesn't sit right in his stomach._

_So… where else…?_

……

Mike wakes up slowly. One of the first things that he is aware of is the concerning inability to smell. It throws him off immediately, but he can still feel some things through his skin and paws. He can sense his wolf. He can hear.

His limbs feel loose and his body aches all over. His wolf is scared, angry, wants to bite, fight, run, where’s Sisky, where’s Bill, where’s Butcher, where’s Chizzy, he needs to _kill_ those hunters. He tenses his legs and shoulders to see if he can lift himself up. He can’t move and he’s quickly and rudely made aware of several throbbing burns scattered across his back.

Silver burns.

Mike snarls. The sound is slow to reach his ears, but other sounds reach his ears along with it. Talking. Moving around. He realizes that he hasn’t opened his eyes yet and does so.

Bill is crouched over his face, holding his hands out awkwardly but not touching him yet. Butcher and Chislett are sitting behind him, still in wolf form. 

The wolf howls inside Mike’s head. Up, up, get up. Mike tries to do that. 

Bill leans down, close, close, close. Mike should be able to smell him. He can’t. Everything feels wrong, everything is wrong.

“—ike! Mike! It’s okay!”

No. It’s not okay. Mike growls again. Bill leans closer and Mike feels, distantly, that familiar human hand against his fur. Pressing, stroking, soothing. The wolf calms down at the touch.

Bill. Here. Safe. Butcher. Chislett.

Gabe’s voice. “You want me to—?”

Bill’s voice. “No, Gabe, please just… just leave. I. I don’t. I can’t do this. Stay out of here. Just. Get out. Stay out.”

“...yeah. Okay.”

Mike tries to push up against Bill’s hand. He sighs when he can feel more of the pressure with more of his senses. 

Scents start to return to his nose. The bus. Bill, Butcher, Chislett, Sisky, Tony, the crew. Something incredibly weird and out of place that smells like an untouched forest or clear freshwater. Gabe leaving. Pete somewhere out of sight. Sisky’s snacks hidden under the seats. Dirty laundry and feet and armpits. Everything that is familiar enough to his wolf to feel like home. Mike’s head drops back onto the floor.

“Mike, it’s okay. Everyone’s okay. See, Butcher and Chislett are here. Sisky’s… he’s gonna be okay.”

Mike’s head snaps back up. He holds back the wave of nausea that the action brings to his head and makes a whuff sound. Not a fucking bark.

“What?” Bill says. 

What. Happened. To. Sisky. The last Mike remembers is Sisky bloodied and beaten by that asshole with the silver rod. He can’t smell Sisky’s blood now, but as he catches more scents, he can tell that Sisky is still in a lot of pain. 

Mike strains his muscles and ignores the pain across his back so that he can stand up. Bill looks panicked, and shuffles forward to support Mike. As if his scrawny arms are strong enough to do that. But Mike’s wolf is still happy at the contact. 

“Mike! Calm down! Everyone’s going to be okay! Sisky’s going to be okay!”

Mike pulls out of Bill’s grip and walks, slowly and on unsteady paws, towards Sisky’s scent. Butcher and Chislett follow after. 

The door’s in the way and Butcher jumps onto his hind legs to push it open. Mike allows Butcher to push the door open and lead him.

Mike still can’t smell properly. But he can hear Sisky’s slow heartbeat. He can hear Sisky’s ragged and shallow breaths. He can see the bruises and scabbed-over wounds through Sisky’s blond fur. Pete is kneeling next to him, smearing that weird-smelling stuff over the injuries.

Doesn’t matter. Mike is more concerned with the sight of Sisky on the floor.

Butcher sits down in front of Sisky, who whines softly and opens a swollen eye to look at them. Butcher bends his head down and gently starts licking at Sisky’s bruised face. Mike walks past them both and lies down beside Sisky, sharing his body heat because… because his wolf says to. For comfort, right? 

Chislett settles between Pete and Sisky, but leaves enough room for Pete to continue doing whatever he’s doing.

Mike closes his eyes and waits for his sense of smell to return. 

Bill has followed them all into the back lounge. He sits sat down in the small amount of space next to Pete. They’re all kind of squashed back here now, but Mike doesn’t know if he’s ever felt more comfortable. More secure.

He can smell better now. Sisky’s blood. That weird stuff that's soothing the pain from the silver burns. Sisky’s snacks. The food in the refrigerator. Laundry. The bunks.

Safe. Home. Family.

Bill’s voice. “They’re going to be okay, right?”

Pete’s voice. “They’ll be able to answer that for themselves once they shift back.”

Mike pushes his nose against Sisky’s fur. Shift back… He can do that. Eventually. Not now, because being here, alive, safe, is more important.

Bill’s voice again. “Adam… you can, can you hear me? I’m. We’re all here for you. We’re all here together. I’m not… never going to leave you alone. Not like I did. I promise. I swear.”

Not going to leave? Bill actually sounds genuine. And the way he’s hovering over them, stroking his hands over their backs, moving from one to another… maybe he means it. He’s not going to disappear and ignore them in favor of screwing Gabe. But Mike can understand why. Whatever exists outside of this bus, even outside of the circle they’ve formed around Adam… none of that is important. The music, the show, their responsibilities for the future… it’s all trivial in the face of this revelation. 

They’re here. They’re alive. They’re safe together.

They’re a **pack** and that’s what’s most important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to put this before the first chapter, but I think I'd rather have it here. 
> 
> **Evan:** This universe wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for you. Our long talks together brought these characters and this story to life. You helped to fill this idea with fluff and angst and smut. It's going to be so much fun working out the other fics in this universe.  
>  **Erin:** Thank you for all the early support with this fic. You saw this go from a collection of seemingly unrelated chunks written in past tense to what it is now. Thank you for sticking with me.  
>  **Stormy:** I wouldn’t have been able to finish this and make such a good final product without you. Thank you for all the encouragement and the times we spent sharing our struggles and successes.  
>  **Lauren:** Thank you for answering all of my awkward questions about these people. This fic is as close to accurate as possible because of your guidance. And thank you for putting up with my endless promises to write a good TAI fic. I hope you enjoy it however many times you want to reread it.
> 
> And thank you to everyone who reads this story. It was a labor of love and I've been so excited to share it.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Tell that boy I'll leave you alone now](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11316327) by [caimani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caimani/pseuds/caimani)




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